The Summoning
by Maroucia
Summary: In a modern Westeros, Sansa Stark is a teenage girl who comes from a long line of powerful witches. To her great shame and sadness, she was born with barely any Skill. Tired of being disregarded and of feeling worthless, she decides one day to use dangerous foreign black magic in one last desperate attempt to get the strength she longs for.
1. Chapter 1

Those of you who follow me on tumblr may have heard that I planned on writing this fic. It's the crackiest fic I've ever wrote, but I just couldn't help myself. I'm not exactly sure of how long it's going to be, but around 10 chapters perhaps? Hopefully not more. We'll see though. This is going to be pretty dubcon, so be warned!

I hope those who give it a try will enjoy it! If you do, please let me know and leave me a nice comment! :D

PS: the vocabulary used to describe magic in this fic is very, like _very_ heavily inspired by Anne Bishop's Black Jewels series.

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Sitting on her four-poster bed with her back leaned against a pile of plush pillows, Sansa was studying for the math test she would have on Monday. While she tried all she could to keep her mind on the task at hand, she was too nervous to focus properly, had been distracted all evening. The thought of what she would soon be attempting was far too disturbing and sent her heart racing at the most random moments. Whenever it came, she would wiggle and bite hard at her lip, but then she would force herself to take a deep breath and resume reading her notes. She had taken her decision and would not turn back, yet that didn't mean that she should not do her homework and prepare properly for her exam first.

Once Sansa gathered she was as ready for her test as she was ever likely to get in her present state, she stood from her bed and stored her notebook into her school bag by her writing desk. The old wooden floor of her family's Victorian manor creaked under her feet as she walked to the tall, finely carved wooden free-standing mirror there was in a corner of her room. She stopped just in front of it to gaze at herself and couldn't help but cringe at the view of her. She seemed terrified and so very childish in the white knee-length frilly nightgown she wore. Arya hated it and often commented that she looked like she had just stepped straight out of a cheesy period novel when she sported it. While Sansa liked it exactly for that reason, it didn't do much to boost her confidence at the moment. She wondered for an instant if she should not change, yet she shortly surmised worrying about clothes was foolish in her circumstances. As if the forces she planned on calling upon tonight would care about _that_ … It was ridiculous!

It was really dark outside, a moonless night. Sansa had left the curtains open and as she glanced out the window, she could only barely distinguish the shape of the tall oak tree that flanked the house. The sky was as black as tar, exactly as it ought. Really, this was the perfect night to do what she intended.

Kneeling before the antique chest of drawers she had inherited from her great-great-grandmother, Sansa opened the bottom drawer and moved aside all the tee-shirts and hoodies stored inside. Underneath the clothes, she found a large leather-bound book and carefully took it out. It was still dusty even though she had removed the worst of it when she secretly _borrowed_ _it_ a week ago and she blew on it in hope to make it a little better. The book had apparently not been consulted very often during the many centuries it had been in the Stark family's basement occult library, but it was not really surprising. The type of magic it dealt with was extremely rarely practiced in Westeros and not very well seen either. Every young witch was warned against attempting to learn any of it at one point or another by her parents - even Sansa had been, for all the good it had done.

On the grimoire's cover was a large pentagram and just underneath it, the word 'Evocation' was written in bold gothic letters. With shaking fingers, Sansa opened it and flipped through the age-old vellum pages in search of the chapter that interested her.

 _I can still turn back,_ the thought came unbidden, same as it had so many times over the last few days, yet Sansa shook her head, resolute. _I need to do this,_ she reminded herself. _I have no choice._ It was that or always remain as flat and unresponsive to magic as any regular mortal. The prospect was intolerable!

Images of her whole life, of the frustration that had been hers for so long now, flashed before her eyes then. First, she saw Arya, her younger sister, getting more and more powerful as the years went on, then the other young witches of her congregation learning to master an increasing number of complicated spells even as Sansa watched in envy and finally, her mother's gentle smile that couldn't quite hide her disappointment when she ultimately came to terms with the fact that Sansa had no Skill to speak of.

"It's not your fault," the woman had said, before hugging her.

Sansa sniffed at the memory, tears welling in her eyes all over again. It was not her fault indeed if she was born with no talent in the dark art, however, the notion only made it worse. If she had been to blame at least, she could have done something about it, but as it was, none of her efforts had ever been worth _a thing_!

For as long as she had not had her period, there still had been hope and Sansa and her mother had held on to it. After all, women did not start gaining true power until they had had their fist blood and every witch family counted at least a member who had been nearly without Skill before puberty but started attainting her strength only after it had kicked in. Sadly, Sansa proved not to be one of those. She had had her first period at twelve, four years ago, and while she had gained a woman's figure by now and was just as tall as her mother, she still could not cast a spell to save her life. She had enough sensitivity to feel when magic was being used and recognise a witch's psychic scent, but that was it.

In that, she was exactly like the males of her family _. As powerless as a man_ , she reflected bitterly. That hurt! As a female, she was meant to be a witch, same as all her women ancestors had been before her for as long as there had been Starks and Tullys in this world. But that was apparently not her destiny…

A born perfectionist, Sansa excelled in everything she attempted. She had the best grades among her classmates at school, could dance, play the piano, sing beautifully, sew exquisite dresses, bake excellent cakes, draw and paint to perfection… And yet for all of that, no matter how hard she worked at it, she could not become a witch as was her birthright! In the meantime, Arya who had terrible grades, was rebellious and often disobeyed their parents, who sung horribly, did not play any musical instrument and preferred to run the streets with her shady friends than to get involved in any team sport had shown great potential ever since she was but a child and had only kept getting more talented as the years went on. Though it shamed her to admit it, yes, Sansa was jealous. It was so unfair!

And then, the icing on the cake, on Monday Joffrey had dumped Sansa for Margaery! For some reason, that made her feel even more like a failure. All week, she had been subjected to the sight of them as they walked around school, hand in hand, and people had whispered behind her back, curious to see her reaction to this new most popular couple. It especially hurt in that Margaery was the only other young witch at school apart from her and Arya. Or perhaps more exactly, _apart from Arya_. Sansa was no a true witch, though it pained her to admit it.

Joffrey and Margaery both came from great witch families, the Baratheons and Tyrells, and were part of the same congregation as the Starks and so they had all known each other ever since they were very young. When she and Joffrey had started dating six months ago, Sansa had been convinced she had found her one true love. They had so much in common, she had believed, and Joffrey was alike her in that he lacked the normal sensitivity to magic people with their blood normally had. Even for a male, he was considered flat and would not have known that a spell was being cast right beside him even if the power of hundred witches had been channelled in its weaving. But Sansa had thought that this meant that he could understand her, that he wouldn't care about her lack of talent in the Craft. They should have supported each other.

She'd been proved wrong when on Monday, he'd told her that as a Baratheon, he could no longer date someone as powerless as her. Margaery and he had fallen in love over the week-end and she was now his girlfriend instead of Sansa. Joffrey was ecstatic at the prospect of all the ways she could use her talent for him. Having a skilful girlfriend would be very convenient as she could do all sort of things for him, such as, for example, cast spells to make his pencil move on its own and write the correct answer during tests, or help him run faster, jump higher and throw the ball farther when he played football in the school team. Sansa could do none of that and he was all too happy to be rid of her. Also, Sansa was a prude and had still refused to have sex with him even after all those months they'd been together. _Perhaps I should have agreed to sleep with him,_ she regretted, though she knew he would probably have left her anyway. He'd told her that at sixteen, she was getting old to be a virgin. But she had been too scared, which was laughable seeing what she was about to do…

 _I don't have to do this,_ Sansa reminded herself yet another time as she turned the centuries-old vellum pages. At long last, she found the chapter she had been searching for and set down the book onto the floor by her side. _To Conjure a Demon,_ it said in those nearly unreadable gothic letters. _I don't have to._

And still no matter how scared she was at the idea of trying her hand at this ancient and foreign dark magic ritual that was Evocation, Sansa had taken her decision and she would not back down. She had had enough of not being good enough and this was the only solution to her lack of talent she could think of. A witch could gain a lot of strength from an alliance with a devil, or so it was said… And tonight was the perfect occasion to do it, one that she wouldn't get again any time soon. Mum and Dad had left for the weekend to visit relatives outside of town and brought Bran and Rickon along. Arya was sleeping at a friend's house and would only return home tomorrow afternoon. Both Robb and Jon were away at college at the other side of Westeros and certainly not to be expected. The house was completely empty, something which did not occur very frequently, and on top of that, the night was moonless and dark, exactly as the grimoire recommended. Demons did not like sunlight and as the moon took its luminosity from the sun, even its wan glow was to be avoided when attempting Evocation, Sansa had learned.

Of course, she wasn't sure if it would work. It was a total shot in the dark, a last, desperate attempt… The thought of failure was almost as frightening as that of a demon materialising in her bedroom. There was no guaranty that Sansa would achieve her goal. Why would she manage this when even the most basic spells had never been in her reach? Still, one way or another, it was worth giving it a go. If she succeeded, her life would change forever and no one would ever think of her as that feeble little false-witch and snigger behind her back.

After having reread a few times the passage about the preparation for Evocation in her grimoire, Sansa stood up and cleared a large space at the centre of her bedroom. Just in case, she locked the door and then, headed to her closet where she had hidden her supply. She had found some very fine white sand at a gardening store not so far from school which she was sure would be suitable for a summoning. After having opened the sand bag, she poured the content on the floor, slowly walking about her room as she did and letting it fall in the shape of a large pentagram. With a broom, she pushed around some of it afterwards until the figure was nearly perfect. Getting her hands on black candles had been quite a challenge, but she had found some at a punk-gothic clothing store downtown. She put one on each point of the pentagram and lit them with a lighter. Incense was burning on her writing desk, a mix of sandalwood and patchouli which had been recommended in the grimoire. Sansa was ready, or at least, as ready as one could ever be as they prepared to open a breach between this world and the Seven Hells…

The pace of her pulse hastening, she turned off the light and picked up the ancient book from the floor. It was dark in her room, but thanks to the candles, she could still read the page the grimoire was opened to well enough. It also didn't hurt that she knew the words she had to recite by heart.

"High lords of the Seven Hells!" she started, her voice thin and unsure.

Sansa could barely believe what she was doing, yet if she was to attempt Evocation, she had best try to sound a little more confident. She would never convince a devil to come forth from the Seven Hells with a scared little girl's voice! Clearing her throat, she went on:

"Send me one among you to be my slave and master. Give me the power that derives from your eternal flames! Let him become me and I him."

This had sounded much better and, with a little more self-assurance, Sansa walked to the centre of the pentagram, still holding the large book in her trembling arms. As she did, sand stayed stuck against the sole of her bare feet and she glanced down with concern, relief flowing over her when she noted she had not messed up her pentagram too much.

"Sever those tethers that keep him in the Seven Hells and free him so that we be forever bound. Show me the face of Hell that I know what death is like before my time," she continued, her voice louder now. In the silence of the empty house, it seemed to echo and the overall impression was very eerie.

Then, Sansa lowered the book to the ground and fished out the large kitchen knife she had put in her pocket as she prepared herself for her summoning. "I offer myself in exchange for the power I ask of you. May my blood serve as a symbol of my sacrifice."

With that, she removed the plastic edge protector, threw it to the floor and pressed the well sharpened blade into her palm. Closing her eyes, Sansa let out a whine at the acute pain she was at once assailed with, but she sucked in her breath and kept pushing, for she knew that only a few drops of blood wouldn't be enough to sway the lords of the Seven Hells to grant her the favour she was asking. Her face was soaked with tears by the time she surmised the cut was deep enough. Opening her eyes in slits, she gasped in shock and dropped the knife from the moment her gaze fell on the bloody mess that was her hand. Sansa had never liked the sight of blood and for an instant, she seriously feared she might faint. The room was spinning around her, still eventually, it grew stable again and she resumed her incantation in a weak voice.

"Evig em rewop revo eht luos fo nam. Ekam em regnorts naht yna rehto chtiw. Taht eno fo uoy eb dnuob ot em," Sansa recited. The words sounded even stranger now that she spoke them aloud. There was no way she knew for sure if she pronounced them well, nevertheless she followed the grimoire's instruction and carried on.

"Evig em rewop revo eht luos fo nam. Ekam em regnorts naht yna rehto chtiw. Taht eno fo uoy eb dnuob ot em," she said once again, her voice breaking a little at the end.

Sansa's hand was throbbing unbearably and she kept it closed in a fist and pressed against her chest, her other hand covering it. Shutting her eyes, she repeated the litany a few more times, trying to ignore the warm feel of blood spilling through her fingers.

"Evig em rewop revo eht luos fo nam. Ekam em regnorts naht yna rehto chtiw. Taht eno fo uoy eb dnuob ot em.

Evig em rewop revo eht luos fo nam. Ekam em regnorts naht yna rehto chtiw. Taht eno fo uoy eb dnuob ot em.

Evig em rewop revo eht luos fo nam. Ekam em regnorts naht yna rehto chtiw. Taht eno fo uoy eb dnuob ot em."

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but Sansa would have sworn a soft, warm breeze was blowing through her chamber. Though it was tremendously subtle, she could also discern something that resembled a witch's psychic scent, or at least she thought she could. It seemed to become a bit more present as she repeated the incantation a sixth and final time.

"Evig em rewop revo eht luos fo nam. Ekam em regnorts naht yna rehto chtiw. Taht eno fo uoy eb dnuob ot em," she said, louder than previously, before opening her eyes.

To her surprise, the candles had died out, but apart from that, there was nothing. Sansa waited in absolute obscurity, listening to the wail of the violent wind that blew outside and to the clicks the branches of the tall oak tree did as they hit the slate roof. The old house creaked under the gust's pressure, the sounds coming from its every corner.

Gazing nervously around herself, Sansa searched for a sign – anything! – that would tell her her Evocation had been successful. There was none. Even the psychic scent she had believed she sensed moments ago had all but disappeared. Could it really have only been her imagination?

About a minute passed and still nothing happened. _What was I expecting?_ Sansa mused, anguish and bitterness overcoming her in the blink of an eye. _I have no Skill. Why would that have ever worked? Why?!_ Then, inadvertently, she clenched her wounded hand and let out a cry of pain at the pang that traversed it. _Oh, and how will I ever explain that cut?_ she wondered in despair, glancing down at it. Tears filled her eyes even as small, pitiful whimpers escaped her lips.

"That was all for nothing. How stupid of me… I am worthless. _Worthless_!" she exclaimed aloud.

Sobs shaking her, Sansa was about to start crying well and truly when something like an explosion of energy sent her flying to the ground. She landed on her back with a yelp and, holding her aching, bleeding hand against her chest, she gasped loudly as her room was transformed into a real-life furnace in less than a heartbeat. Fire was everywhere, licking the walls and furniture and rising all the way to the ceiling. Panic-stricken, Sansa propped herself on her elbows to better take in the surreal scene that played out around her. Yet even before she had time to truly process what was going on, the flames diminished in intensity until they had vanished completely. Only the candles' wicks remained lit, their small flames giving off enough light for the soot marks that had been left all over her chamber to be visible.

The air was thick with the stench of smoke and Sansa coughed and blinked even as fear stronger than she had ever experienced gripped her. The psychic scent she had noticed earlier was back with a vengeance. It wholly filled the room, was omnipresent to the point of being oppressive and to give Sansa the impression that she was being invaded and scrutinised. Her breathing coming in short and ragged, she watched with wide eyes as a large, dark shadow slowly took form at the centre of her sand pentagram.

"Who dares call me forth from the Seven Hells?" a deep, raspy voice echoed through the room.

Sansa shrunk back at once, her heart hammering in her chest and whole body shivering. _It has worked_ , she reflected with incredulity. No matter how much effort she had put in it, deep down, she had never genuinely believed her summoning would lead to anything. Yet looking at the manlike creature that was appearing in front of her, there was no doubting it anymore. There was no joy in this success though, only horror and a clear, chilling feeling that she had just made the biggest mistake of her life…


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow, that was fast! Don't know if I'll ever manage to update so quickly again, but for time being, enjoy!_

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Slowly but surely, the cloud of smoke that surrounded the demon Sansa had summoned dissipated until only traces of it remained. Propped on an elbow with her wounded, aching hand pressed hard against her chest, Sansa watched him from her place on the floor with eyes wide with disbelief. Never in her life had she beheld such an imposing and terrifying being. Her body was reacting with visceral terror to his mere presence. The view of him, as well as the strong and alien psychic scent he emitted, were nearly making her sick with fright. She felt as if her blood had turned to ice in her veins. Every part of her was trembling uncontrollably and her breathing was coming in short to the point that she feared she might choke. This was no creature any human was meant to face during their lifetime, some age-old instinct told her. If she valued life, she had best flee and never turn back, it screamed to her.

The grimoire Sansa had used for her Evocation pretended all demons had once been human, long ago. If that was true, that one had been an abnormally tall man before he met his death, centuries ago. He had to be nearer to seven feet than six and was built like the most fearsome of warriors. He wore a pair of dark ancient-looking pants tied with a cord instead of a zipper – breeches these were called, Sansa remembered from all the period novels she had read over the years. Apart from that, he only had on a pair of equally ancient-looking dark boots which were held in place by straps and buckles.

His skin was a medium shade of grey, his chest and arms extremely muscular and dusted with coarse, dark hair. A pair of pointy black horns rose above his head and lank black hair fell down to his shoulders. One half of his face was horribly disfigured, covered with red and black twisted burns that went all the way to his collarbone and his left arm was similarly scarred. On his back was a large pair of black wings, alike that of a bat. Though they were retracted at the time being, they were undeniably impressive. Their joints rose as high as the top of his head with thumbs that seemed as sharp as knife blades at the top of them and the lower parts of the wings ended just below his hips. The demon was glaring at her with eyes that blazed, literally, the white in them yellowish and bright in the dimness of the room. Still the intensity of his stare was probably even scarier than all the rest of him and Sansa averted her gaze from the moment she met it.

"Who are you who broke my shackles?" he asked dryly. His voice was so very hoarse, like he had spent centuries breathing smoke instead of air.

Sansa's throat was tight and getting worse with every passing second. Though she tried, she found herself unable to form a single word. She had done all she could to prepare herself mentally for this first meeting, knowing a demon was sure to be a frightful sight. Her efforts had been vain, of course. It was one thing to look at illustrations of fiends in her grimoire and other books from her parent's occult library and another completely to have the real deal stand right in front of her. She didn't have the nerves for this, she realised in dismay. This whole Evocation had been a huge mistake.

"Speak!" the demon snarled, taking a step towards her. The candlelight fluttered with his abrupt movement and some of the sand of the pentagram on the floor flew from under his booted feet.

Her heart jumping in her chest, Sansa grew as stiff as a bow and sat up in a will to back away from him as much as she could without leaving the ground, yet she knew better than to disobey. "My... my name is Sansa Stark, high lord," she replied, her voice small and childish. Unable to look at his horrific face, she stared at his legs. The woolen breeches he wore did little to hide just how thick and solid his thighs were. They were as big as small trees, just as imposing as the rest of him.

"Sansa Stark," he repeated, her own name unfamiliar to her ears when spoken by this demon. "You're a witch? You sure don't look like one."

Swallowing hard, Sansa lowered her stare to the floor and closed her free arm around her legs, her injured hand pulsing like a second heart against her chest. "I... I have witch blood, high lord. The women in my family are all witches, but I barely have any Skill myself."

The demon snorted, a dry and grating sound. "Barely any courage too. The room is filled with the smell of your fear... Is it really you who called me forth?" he sneered.

Her eyes filling with tears, Sansa sniffed hard. Why, oh why had she ever done that indeed? "Yes, it's me... I'm… I'm sorry if I have bothered you, high lord... I just... I just..."

"Just _what_?" he hissed impatiently, sending Sansa in a fit of shaking.

Struggling not to start crying, she leaned her chin on her knees and shut her eyes. This was all so unreal; she felt as if she was in a dream, or more precisely, in a nightmare. "I… I wanted to be... to be a real witch like my mother and sister," she murmured.

The demon laughed at that and Sansa was sure she had never heard anything more lugubrious. "A real witch," he mocked. "You have a long way to go."

Silence fell over the room for a few long seconds. Although Sansa's gaze was still fixed to the ground, she could feel the demon's eyes on her, studying her attentively. Then suddenly, he began probing her with some sort of devilish supernatural sense, appraising her with it - mind, body and soul alike. She grinded her teeth all through his assessment, feeling violated and yet totally helpless against it.

When he finally withdrew his strange and unpleasant mental touch from her, Sansa jerked and exhaled violently before growing limp and panting in exhaustion.

"For all of your trembling and weeping, there's something there, buried deep within you. I have seen it, though it is atrophic at best," the demon commented, his voice low and husky. "But I shouldn't have doubted it. You managed to conjure me and break my shackles alright. One cannot be totally powerless and free a bloody devil," he rasped, touching one of the large metal bands he had around his wrists.

The swivel eyes after them had been broken, Sansa noticed as she glanced up at him. She remembered having read about that as she did her research on Evocation during the previous week, that demons were chained in the Seven Hells and that when a witch successfully summoned one, he became bound to her instead.

Sansa's gaze fell on the hand he was touching the band with and the view of it sent a shudder down her spine. It was huge and grey like the rest of him with fingers that gradually became black from the second knuckles and ended with long and pointy, black claws. _Will I let him touch me with these hands_ , she wondered in revulsion. Somehow, she couldn't envision that she might really go ahead with this.

"Why don't you stand up and let me have a good look at you, hmm?" the demon demanded.

Sansa didn't have it in her to refuse him. Her legs unsteady under her, she struggled to her feet, still cradling her bloody hand against her. The demon approached her and she quavered under his inspection, keeping her stare glued to the floor. He was so very tall, like a giant towering over her. In her peripheral vision, she could glimpse the enormous, dark shape of him, the bottom of his wings, the pointy end of his fingers…

"You're a pretty little thing, aren't you?" he said as he walked around her, looking her up and down. Then, he leaned over her and took a deep whiff near her neck. "Hmm, and a virgin too," he remarked.

Sansa flinched, his proximity too much for her, but the demon closed his hand around her upper arm and pulled her to him. Even through the fabric of her nightgown, there was no ignoring the abnormal warmth of his palm. His claws were digging into her arm, just enough for it to sting, and Sansa winced, keeping her gaze lowered to his sturdy torso. His smell was strong and so odd: male sweat, a hint of animal musk and the stench of smoke all coming together in something that was clearly not human. All Sansa wanted was to run as far as she could from him, yet there was no way she even moved. She was too petrified for that and barely could stand on her two feet to begin with.

"I know it's you who called me of course, knew it from the second I arrived," the demon admitted. "I can feel it, smell it... You smell of maiden, but you have your own sweet psychic scent as well, you know. It's like flowers and honey. I could drink it like wine..." He paused to readjust his hold on her upper arm, yanking her even nearer. "You know what demons do to witches, don't you?" he asked, his voice hushed.

Sansa breathed in deeply, shutting her eyes at the horror of it. She knew what demons did to witches all too well indeed for having read about it in her grimoire. In it, it was called 'Fornication' and there was an intricate illustration of naked witches and well-endowed demons having group sex by a huge bonfire at the beginning of the chapter about it. The very memory of it made Sansa's blood run cold. "Yes, I know, high lord," she whispered anyway.

For some reason, her reply angered him. " _High lord_ ," he repeated, the words sounding like curses. "You've called me that a few times already. Don't know why. Do I look like a bloody lord to you? Just a moment ago, I was burning in the Seven Hells. I was nothing but pain and misery. You think there's anything lordly about that, _huh_?!"

"Of course not! I'm so sorry if I offended you. I-"

"Where does that even come from?"

"What?"

"That pompous title!"

"I... I read in my grimoire that it's how a witch is meant to address a demon as she summons him," Sansa explained in panic.

"Pfff! That's bullshit. I piss on titles. They call me the Hound whence I come from, you might as well do the same."

"Of course, whatever you want, my lor... I mean, no, I'm so sorry, I-"

"You can't stop yourself, can you? So fucking polite," the demon cut her roughly. "What sort of witch are you, peeping those pretty little words at me with that pretty little voice of yours." He sniggered then, the sound so very grating. "A little bird of paradise – that's what you are - conjuring a bloody demon. Imagine that! But your pretty words are wasted on me, girl." The demon spat on the floor by his side to show her what he thought of that. "Look at me, little bird," he ordered suddenly.

Even before Sansa had a chance to do as he bade, he pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lifted her face. His fingers were burning hot, same as if he'd been feverish, or perhaps more exactly, as if he'd been burning from the inside. Sansa met his blazing stare, too frightened to dare disobey and was oddly fascinated by the look of them, yellowish with grey, somewhat animalistic irises.

"Go on! Take it all in," he insisted and Sansa submitted and did just that.

Gods, but those twisted scars he had were gruesome to look at up close, the flickering light of the candles' flames and moving shadows only attracting more attention to the craters and deep cracks in them. While unmarred, the other half of his face was just as intimidating with its strong jaw, heavy brow and high cheekbone. His nose was large and hooked, his features gaunt and the grey of his skin very macabre. Over his head, his horns rose and in the background, Sansa could vaguely distinguish the shape of the upper joints of his bat-like wings.

"I'm not as pretty as you are, am I? Not sure what you expected when you summoned me. This is what you're going to have to deal with to get the power you're after. Can you bear it?"

"I... I don't know," Sansa answered honestly. A tear went rolling down her cheek and her lower lip began quavering as if she was about to cry.

That seemed to take him aback and he released her chin to narrow his eyes at her. His other hand was still closed around her arms, keeping her near. "You don't know? What do you mean?" he demanded, his mouth twitching.

Sansa looked down, ashamed of herself. "I'm… I'm not sure I can do this. For… fornication…" she whispered. "I don't think I can."

The demon, the Hound he had told her he was called, shifted in place, but with her eyes lowered, all Sansa could see was how the muscles of his broad chest stiffened. "It's a bit late to turn back, I hope you realise that," he said with unveiled irritation. "Should've thought about that before you called me forth. Nothing will make me go back down there, you hear me? I've had enough of all the bloody fire," he spat.

Sansa waited in silence, unsure what she should say to that.

Lifting a large hand, the Hound twisted a lock of her hair around his forefinger. "You freed me..." he started, his tone calmer. "I'm grateful for it of course, but your conjuration is not over. You cannot call a demon through Evocation and then, not complete your part of the deal once he's there. That's a dangerous game you're playing, little bird. Has no one told you of the appetite a demon has after he's been summoned?"

"I... I've read about it," Sansa breathed uneasily.

It was indeed one of the things she had learned from the Fornication chapter of her grimoire. What truly bound a devil to a witch was the act of copulation, another word the grimoire used for _it_. One couldn't hope to gain power without offering herself to the fiend she had called forth. As for the demon, he could not be fooled; he instinctively knew which witch had summoned him and would recognise her by her psychic scent between thousands of women. From what Sansa had read, it was as if her scent became imprinted into his very being and he would lust after her with the hunger of a starving beast, especially when he first arrived, for who knew for how long he had gone without having a woman. It could have been centuries.

What the grimoire had failed to inform her of was what happened if a witch changed her mind and decided not to sleep with the demon she had summoned. Would he be sent back to the Seven Hells? Would he be enraged and rape or kill her?

"If you knew, you should've been prepared for it. Why go ahead with this Evocation if you don't have the guts for it?"

Sansa decided to go for the truth. "I… I thought I could do it - I really did! - but I was wrong. You scare me too much. You were right before when you said I lack courage. I shouldn't have summoned you. It was a big mistake…" she said, her voice breaking and eyes filling with tears.

That seemed to displease him, yet the demon didn't raise his voice. "A mistake? Why would you say that?" he asked. His voice was low and rough, quiet in spite of its faint undertone of anger. "Didn't you tell me yourself you wanted to be a witch like your mother and sister? What about that? You didn't change your mind so soon, have you?" The hand he had around her arm released it and moved over to her shoulder, the other resumed stroking her hair. "It's just the fear speaking, but you won't always be scared. You'll gain the power you lack if go ahead with this. Giving up so near to your goal, now that would be the real mistake."

Sansa gazed up at him, surprised. Was he pleading with her? Why would he do that…? Unless… unless…

All of a sudden, she began wondering if she had not guessed right and that he'd be sent back to the Seven Hells if she did not have sex with him before daybreak. The Hound could overpower her easily if he wanted to - he was a good foot taller than her and certainly at least twice her weight - yet maybe her consent was necessary for their alliance to be sealed? If that was the case, then… then perhaps if she managed to free herself from his clutches, to escape and then, to hide herself from him until dawn, she could avoid having to lose her virginity to this creature… Except that was utter nonsense and she knew it. No one could flee a devil who'd been lured to this world by the promise of a willing mate, a mate whose psychic scent he could recognise _anywhere_. And even if she somehow achieved it, where would that leave her? Sansa would be exactly in the same unbearable situation she had been in up until today, only with a wounded hand and a partially burned room. This whole endeavour would have been utterly pointless…

"All that fear's not warranted. It's like poison, blinding you to the fact that I'm here to serve you…" the Hound added, each word spoken slowly, in a near murmur. "It's keeping you from realising what you have at hand here. Are you really going to let it stop you from getting what you want?" he rasped. His harsh features set in an unreadable mask, he was gazing upon her with those strange, blazing eyes. "You'll get used to the sight of me soon enough. That fear can be tamed, same as I can be for you."

The hand he had used to stroke her hair moved to her cheek and he softly caressed her there with his knuckles, wiping her tears away. One sharp claw brushed her skin as he did, the feel of it making her cringe. Could she really ever get used to this fiend? Sansa doubted it and yet, for all of that, the Hound was certainly right. In the end, he was only reminding her of what had been her own sentiment before her nerves had gotten the better of her: that her aspiration of becoming a real witch was well worth that one sacrifice. She needed to get a grip of herself. She would never achieve anything if she allowed her fear to control her. Sansa had been so resolute before the demon's apparition. She had been ready to go to any length to get the Skill she lacked. She couldn't let all of her efforts go to waste. _Perhaps I can be brave,_ she mused, unconvinced. _Perhaps I can do it…_

"If you lay with me, you'll be more than a witch," the Hound continued. He leaned over her, bringing his face inches from hers. "You'd be channelling your strength through me directly from the Seven Hells and trust me, that twice accursed place is bursting with wasted energy that just begs to be freed. Once you learn to wield it, they'll be no stopping you. With time, you could become more powerful than any witch you know. No one would ever see you as that _pretty little false witch_ anymore, the one with the blood but not a drop of Skill to go with it. Don't tell me that's not something you long for."

Once more, his words hit a nerve _. Can he read my mind?_ Sansa wondered. Or were these things he had sensed when he probed her earlier? One way or another, she indeed had had enough of being disregarded by the men and women of her congregation. The frustration of being unskilled was a constant in her life, a bitter aftertaste at the back of her throat that apparently would never leave her. Sansa was tired of being laughed at behind her back by the other young witches of her circle. She wanted to be one of them.

Apparently sensing he was getting somewhere, the demon kept on going. "I'd be your willing slave, would do your bidding, as any faithful demon ought to when asked by his conjuror. How many people do you know that can say as much? That they have a devil at their beck and call?" he insisted.

Sansa glanced up at his horns, at the joints of his closed wings that rose behind him, at the sharp, black thumbs over them. "No one," she whispered. She bit at her bottom lip, a wave of aversion washing over her as the demon cupped her cheek with his huge hand. It was so warm, nearly burning her, and very calloused.

"There, little bird, you see?" he said, his lips curving in a faint smirk. "All you have to do to change your life forever tonight, is open your pretty white legs for me and let me take you like you promised you would when you recited the words of your summoning. It won't be as bad as you dread, I think you'll be surprised. Witches usually enjoy being fucked by their demon. I don't see any reason why you'd be different"

Sansa had read as much in her grimoire, yet she couldn't imagine she could ever take any sort of pleasure from being shagged by this fiend. Still, there was no way around it: she desperately wanted to be a witch like was her birthright and this was her only hope of ever achieving that dream. Besides, having such a fearsome devil at her service surely couldn't hurt either. She had opened a breach between this world and the Seven Hells and there was really no turning back after that. _This has to be done,_ she decided, shivering like a leaf.

"Yes, I'll do it. I'll give myself to you," Sansa breathed, barely believing her own words.

The Hound bared his teeth in the most devilish grin she had ever witnessed and his eyes flashed with something like satisfaction. "Good, you won't regret it, Sansa Stark," he rasped.

* * *

 _Author's note: So, how was it? Pleaaaase be kind enough to share your impressions with me in the comment section if you liked it because this is such a crackish fic, lol! I NEED to know if people are on board! Thanks in advance! :D_


	3. Chapter 3

_Here it is at long last! Chapter 3! Warning for heavy-duty dubcon in this chapter. If you enjoy, please let me know! :)_

* * *

 _Oh, gods, so this is it,_ Sansa thought to herself, her pulse resounding loudly in her ears. Her neck craned, she was gazing up at the demon's eyes, their odd animalistic quality transfixing her and making it impossible to look away in spite of how much he terrified her. Their irises were a metallic grey, their pupils black and oblong and the yellowish white of them was glowing in the dimness.

A smirk on his lips, the Hound was studying her face leisurely, his stare travelling from her eyes to her hair to her lips even as he kept his huge clawed hand clasped over her shoulder. Then looking down at her body, he frowned as he seemed to notice the injured hand she had cradled against her chest for the very first time. Very gently, he pulled it to him, revealing the large, dark stain of blood that was soaking her nightgown underneath it. _Gods, it's good for the garbage,_ Sansa mused distantly, her head spinning. The view of so much blood - of her own blood! – was making her queasy and her state only worsened as the Hound opened her palm and she saw the deep, gashing cut and wobbly, pale skin surrounding it. For an instant, she feared that she might faint for as much as it hurt and only managed to stay on her feet thanks to the demon's support.

"A pity to see such a flawless hand branded, but a demon has to do what he has to do," he rasped.

Bending over her, he lifted her hand to his face to lick her wound and clean the blood away. His tongue was red, but darker than a mortal's, almost black, and longer too. Once more, Sansa was overwhelmed with revulsion. Against her better judgment, she flinched, but the Hound held her wrist solidly, forcing her to remain in place. When he finally let go of her hand, she noticed the bleeding had stopped and the cut closed. Only an angry red scar and slight throbbing remained, same as if the slash had been days old.

"Take off that shift," he told her, grabbing a handful of her nightgown and lifting it to her hips. "It's dirty anyway…"

Shutting her eyes, Sansa took a deep, shivering breath, but she obeyed in spite of her nerves and pulled her nightgown over her head. _This is really happening_ , she mused in disbelief as the piece of clothe fell to the ground by her side. Underneath it, she only wore a pair of pale blue cotton panties. Never in her life had she felt so exposed and vulnerable. It was the first time she undressed before a man, though whether this creature really could be called a _man_ was debatable.

The Hound grunted appreciatively. "I'm a lucky devil. Could've been summoned by a toothless old hag and yet here you are: young, beautiful… ah, and a maid on top of that…" He snorted and lifted a hand to caress her ribs with his knuckles. "Well, _that,_ you won't stay for very long of course…"

With that, his hand trailed down her side until it had reached her hip. He gripped her panties and, with his long and sharp claws, he pierced the fabric and tore the garment from her body as easily as if it had been made of tissue paper. Sansa let out a small cry and glanced down in shock at what was left of her panties on the floor. Her gaze darted up almost immediately to meet the demon's stare. He was grinning, a scary, rabid grin, and his strange eyes were gleaming in a mix of amusement and desire.

"You'd think that after having been dead for so long, us demons would've learned patience, but no. It actually gets worse," he muttered. Leaning over her, he slid both his hands behind her butt to cup both of its cheeks and mould them vigorously. "No worries, though, you'll get used to it with time," he added in her ear.

His palms were hot to the point that they were nearly burning her skin and the metal bands he had around his wrists were even hotter, yet for all of that, Sansa was shivering just as much as if she'd been cold. She could feel his claws on her skin, hear him breathe raggedly in her ear, and his alien psychic scent as well as his bodily odour, musky and masculine and a bit beastlike too, were overpowering her senses. This was all too much for her and she wished he would leave her in peace, if only for a few seconds at least.

The Hound clearly wanted the opposite though. Straightening his back, he moved his hands up to her waist and pulled her flush against him. His body was as hard as steel, his erection impossible to ignore - a huge and solid bulge against her stomach… Sansa lifted her hands and laid them flat on his torso, same as if she wished to push him away, yet the next thing she knew, his mouth was on hers, his tongue sliding between her lips. Sansa grew stiff and shut her eyes, nevertheless, she didn't resist and let it enter.

While she should have gagged at the thought of that dark tongue exploring her mouth, some odd and irresistible instinct compelled her to move her tongue with his. Sansa didn't understand what was getting into her; she was growing heady, dizzy and light headed and was kissing him back like it was something she thirsted for. She moaned in his mouth, confused and yet unable to stop herself.

And then she smelled it - the strange, telltale metallic odour of black magic. _He's casting a spell on me,_ Sansa realised, stunned. How could he ever be doing something like that? Casting spells on people without their consent was one of the worse crimes possible amongst people of her blood and most witch never learned to do it anyhow.

But the Hound was not one of them of course. He was a demon and he would not know such law, would not care by nature. _It was to be expected_ , Sansa reminded herself. _I really shouldn't be surprised that he would use his power unscrupulously._ It was true and yet the notion did little to quell the turmoil of contradicting feelings he was rousing in her. She felt used, like she was a mere toy he played with. On the other hand, in the meantime his spell was doing its work on her and compelling her to lean more onto him, to press herself against him and kiss him back ardently. It was disconcerting to have her mind and body at war, one repulsed by the foreign creature that he was even as the other, basic and animalistic, craved for his proximity.

When finally, the Hound let go of her lips, Sansa was momentarily relieved, though she knew worse was to come. The spell he had cast on her was dissipating, she noted, and the coppery scent had lessened. For a few long seconds, they both stared at one another, each panting. While she was undeniably scared, Sansa once more found herself unable to look away from the demon's blazing eyes. She was like a deer in the headlights, hypnotised by their glow.

"You've a mouth made for kissing. 'Taste like the Sevens Heavens…" he commented in a gravelly voice. Cupping her cheek, he flashed her a large, wicked grin and snorted. In the near darkness, his teeth seemed very white, especially next to the grey of his skin. "As if a demon knew what that was like," the Hound commented with a snigger. Narrowing his eyes, he tilted his head to the side and glanced down at her naked curves. "And that little body of yours, I wager it's made for fucking. That's what we'll get to see in a moment. You're going to get it good all night long, little bird. You've been warned."

With that, he clamped his hands to her behind and swung her effortlessly over his shoulder, same as if she weighted nothing at all. Sansa let out a yelp of surprise and shrilled as her face came into contact with his wing. The texture was extremely unpleasant - soft, membranous and sort of sticky. The demon opened it partly to give her space and she gripped her hands after his back before looking down at the moving floor in alarm. Sansa was so high up, perched over him as she was. His hold on her was firm at least, she could tell he would not drop her.

"You mortal prefer to do it in bed, I've heard. As for myself, I'd gladly have deflowered you against the wall, but I'll humour you. Gotta make it good for my little conjuror as well," he rasped. With that, he bent over to let her fall onto her mattress.

Landing on her back, Sansa propped herself on her elbows almost just as soon. Her comforter felt rough to the touch and peeking down at it, she saw it was partly in ashes. It had been burned as the Hound arrived, same as her curtains and furniture.

Then, even as she gazed up at his towering form, the Hound's pants turned to smoke, vanishing from his body and exposing his nudity to her. Sansa's breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell on his dick. It was _huge_ , much bigger than what she had anticipated. She wondered if in life he had been so well-endowed, or if this was part of a devil's attributes, same as the wings and the horns. One way or another, there was certainly something beastly about being so well-hung which did suit a demon to perfection, no matter how much she'd have rather it be different.

His penis was very large and long and darker than the rest of his body, charcoal black, and his balls were the same shade and full. There was dark hair growing around the base of his shaft and a thin line of it went from his groin to his navel. His thighs were just as muscular and sinewy as the rest of him and dusted with dark hair. With wide eyes, Sansa watched him as he closed his fist around his width and started moving it up and down in a fluid motion.

"Ever seen a naked man before, little bird?" he asked lowly.

"No… I mean, yes, but not in person," Sansa replied in a breathless murmur. Suddenly self-conscious, she closed her legs in a vain attempt at modesty. "But you… you're not a man."

Throwing his head back, he barked a rough laugh and shook his head, the movement attracting attention to the set of horns he had over it. "You're right, I'm not. But you'll want no man in your bed after you've known a demon, mark my words."

With that, he climbed over the mattress, the bed creaking in complaint under his weight, and laid his heavy hands on her knees. Though Sansa resisted by reflex, he easily parted them and took place between her legs.

"A pretty sight," he muttered, gazing down at her pussy.

Sansa was blushing like crazy. Demon or not, this was her very first time getting involved in any sort of sexual activity. She had never gone further than making out and being groped through her clothes by Joffrey. To be examined so brazenly, same as of she was a piece of meat the Hound intended to devour at any instant, was certainly nerve-racking.

After he had gotten his eyeful, the demon smirked at her and lowered himself over her. Sansa was once more taken aback by the warmth he exuded. He was burning, like he was feverish, and even though their skins were barely touching, she could feel heat radiate around him. With clawed fingers, he caressed her face and neck, staring down at her intently. Sansa sucked in her breath, her lithe muscles tensing under his touch. His burned face was so near hers she could behold it in all of hideous glory, every gruesome detail of it. There was a hint of bone, visible on his jaw, she noted in revulsion, and the dark, red skin of his scars seemed to ooze.

"Fuck, but you make me hard, little bird. Can you feel it?" he asked in a rough murmur. As he spoke, he swung his hips against her, as if that was needed.

Sansa shut her eyes and bit at her lip. "Yes," she breathed. She could feel him alright. His dick was resting heavily onto her stomach, such a stiff and massive thing between them.

The Hound chuckled, the sound low and grating, and brought his hand to her breasts to mould them vigorously. "Mmm… that's a perky pair of tits you got there, just big enough, firm and juicy like fresh fruits," he commented, pinching her nipples with calloused fingers.

Sansa let out a small squeak and she inhaled deeply as he took one nipple into his mouth. His lips closed around it and he sucked at it greedily, his hand closing around her other breast and claws digging in her skin just enough to sting. A groan escaping her lips, Sansa shook at the acute sensation his cruel mouth was eliciting. The Hound was using his lips, teeth and tongue, restlessly tasting her breast like they were some delicious treat he couldn't get enough of. With his hands, he was pushing them together, his tongue swirling around her nipples and his mouth sucking them until they had turned into a pair of painfully stiff and pointy buds. There was a tightness in Sansa's lower belly which grew increasingly hard to ignore. She frowned, the notion that her body could respond positively to this unnatural creature's ministration perturbing her and sending a shudder down her spine. There was no spell being cast, no excuses…

Then without willing it, Sansa opened her eyes and glanced down at the demon. Horror-struck, she gasped at witnessing the sight he made: a winged monster licking at her breasts with his dark-red, long pointy tongue. His blazing eyes were filled with lust, his horns tilted her way and so near her face, she could see the spirally indentions in them. She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut, the horror and surrealism of the scene to much for her.

His mouth not leaving her breasts, the Hound trailed a hand down her stomach and brought it to her crotch. He touched her folds, lightly at first, even as he kept suckling at her nipples. When one long finger began sliding into her entrance, Sansa tensed, fearing that his claws would cut her insides, yet it somehow went in smoothly. She squeaked anyway, unaccustomed to the sensation. The demon repeated the motion, coming in and out of her with his digit, and still, there was no real pain, just a faint discomfort that would in all likeness leave no permanent damage. His finger felt big though, and as he dipped it further into her, Sansa wondered how she would ever accommodate his cock when even his index took so much space in her.

His thumb found her clit and, no matter how utterly repelled she still was by the horrific manlike creature above her, Sansa's eyes rolled back in bliss at the contact. The pressure he exerted was unexpectedly light, the pad of his thumb moving in conceit circles over the exact spot she took her pleasure from same as if he knew her body by heart. It was exquisite from the get go and Sansa was taken aback by it, but once more, she knew this was not natural. She was getting heady again, was feeling odd and while it was faint still, the coppery scent of dark magic was back.

As it grew stronger, Sansa's loins were increasingly pooled with warmth. She gasped and moaned as agreeable tremors coursed through her body, emptying her mind of any coherent thought. Soon, she was mewing like kitten, like she had no shame at all, though that wasn't the case of course. Sansa was still aware enough to blush at hearing herself, totally embarrassed and yet unable to control herself.

"Fuck, listen to you, little bird… so bloody eager…" the demon commented in something like amazement, his thumb busy caressing her clit.

 _Is he mocking me?_ Sansa wondered from the fog she was in. He had everything to do with her present state and ought not to act like he was surprised by it.

"Tell me you love it. _Say it_ ," he demanded against her breasts. His voice was low and husky and his breath tickling her now completely damp nipples.

Without waiting for her to answer, the Hound added another finger in her, the gesture making her sigh audibly. Then, he started moving his two fingers in and out of her even as his thumb kept working on her clit, his touch slow, but firm.

"Go on, girl, speak! Tell me you cannot get enough of this," the Hound insisted in a hoarse whisper. "Or else I'll stop."

Sansa shook her head. "No, please don't," she said weakly, her cheeks burning in embarrassment. Had she really just said that?

"Then make this demon happy and tell me what I want to hear," he rasped, pressing his thumb a little harder over her clit and eliciting a long and languorous lament from her.

While she was undeniably abashed by her own keenness, the words came out of her mouth as if spoken by another much more wanton woman. "Yes… yes… I… _I love it_ …" Sansa finally admitted, barely believing her ears.

"Good girl," the Hound muttered, his voice hushed and filled with want. He thrust his rock-hard dick against her thigh and cursed low in his throat, clearly extremely aroused as well.

As he kept fingering her and playing with her clit, Sansa's moans gradually grew louder and more frequent. While she did masturbate every now and then like any other girl, these feeling this demon was waking in her with his simple ministrations were like nothing she had ever known. It was uncanny and no wonder: the scent of metal was getting heavier still. He was manipulating her, using her.

In a way, and though it surprised her, Sansa realised a very logical part of her welcomed his spell. Thanks to it, his claiming of her would run more smoothly, for she would not act as scared as she felt deep down. While she had taken the conscious decision of going through with this, having sex with this creature was certainly not something she'd have ever wished for. With the Hound's spell, at least she would take pleasure from it. It would feel less like she was being forced, like it was a chore, a sacrifice. She could tell it would be good… it was already. She could hardly contain herself and kept mewing and squirming under him.

"Now, tell me you want me to _fuck you_. I want to hear you say it," the demon hissed in between two pants.

Sansa bit at her lips. She wasn't so far gone yet as to genuinely want _that,_ still at the point she was at, she might as well give him what he wanted and speak the damned words. It wasn't as if she hadn't agreed to having sex with him anyway and she could tell the Hound would not back down until she had given in to his demand.

"Yes," she murmured, out of breath and vaguely ashamed. "Yes... please do it…"

"Such a polite and well-mannered girl," the demon commented, pleased.

Approaching his face to hers, he looked her in the eyes with the most piercing gaze Sansa had ever seen and dug his fingers deep in her. He curved them just enough to find that sweet spot all the women magazines raved about and rubbed it gently, watching with a satisfied smile as she moaned and squirmed.

"It's coming soon, I promise it, little witch. I'll give it to you good and long, but first, I want a taste of that sweet-smelling cunt of yours. I think you'll enjoy it also," the Hound said, before pressing his lips to hers. Sansa knitted her brow in aversion, but that didn't prevent her from letting his tongue enter her mouth and moving her lips with his.

After he had broken the kiss, the demon removed his hand from her folds and moved to the edge of the bed. He spread her thighs wide and plunged his long, odd-looking tongue in her. Sansa shielded her eyes with her arm, unable to bear the sight of what he was doing, yet moaned as he penetrated her with his tongue, her eyes rolling back.

With both his hands, he held the thighs that flanked his face, his claws scratching her skin and one of his horns brushing her inner thigh. His tongue was more agile than any tongue had a right to be and was twisting in her like a snake. The image of it was revolting and Sansa wished her loins did not pulse with bliss with each of its movement in her. She ought not to relish this so much…

"You taste like honey, girl, even better than I thought you would," the Hound muttered against her folds after he had withdrawn his tongue from her cleft.

With that, he began lapping at her clit with all the hunger of a starving stray dog. Once more, his tongue on her was exquisite and Sansa couldn't stop herself from groaning and writhing. Her centre was as hot as lava, liquid and boiling with want. She gripped her burned comforter with her hands, her hips bucking against his face as if of their own volition. The scent of metal was intensifying, enveloping her like a thick blanket until she could hardly breathe. Her cries were getting desperate, louder and throatier.

But then as Sansa was just on the verge of peaking, the demon removed his mouth from her and installed himself on his knees between her legs. Letting out a small cry of complaint, she gazed up at him with rounded eyes. The Hound's back was upward, the position displaying his imposing muscular torso to her view and the flickering light of the candles only attracting more attention to just how sinewy it was. His wings were slightly open, making him appear even larger and taller, as if he needed it…

"You'll come as I fuck you," he stated, placing his massive, dark member at her entrance. "I want to feel your cunt squeeze me hard as you do." With that he lowered himself over her and propped his forearm onto the mattress over her head.

Sansa had but a second to be nervous before he pushed himself into her in one sole thrust. She was incredibly wet and his dick went in smoothly, yet even so, a pang of pain traversed her pelvis. Tautening under him, she let out a long whimper and bit hard at her lip. He was so large and she had been a virgin just a second ago - that it hurt was unescapable. For all of that, the feel of being so filled, of being stretched around him was unexpectedly ecstatic. For an instant, it was as if nothing existed but that fullness in her – that and the agony and pleasure the invasion brought.

"Mmm, that's one tight little cunt you got there," the demon rasped, moving ever so slightly in her. "I barely fit in - thank fucking goodness you're soaked."

Then he growled contentedly and bit at her neck, hard, and Sansa shrieked.

"Did I hurt you? Sorry, little bird," he murmured, not sounding apologetic in the least. "You're just good enough to eat. Here now, that'll make it better," he added lowly, licking her neck like a dog where he had bitten her.

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut in disgust, yet she didn't have time to linger on it, for the Hound began pumping himself in her well and truly, one large hand clenched over her hip to guide his comings and goings. With each of his shoves, he buried himself to the hilt and then pulled his dick almost completely out of her before repeating the motion, again and again.

In just a few seconds of that, Sansa's soreness grew insufferable and she grunted in complaint. "Careful," she begged, pressing her palms against his chest.

"Don't try to push me away, little bird," the Hound scolded her. "Just relax and let yourself go."

In their position with their bodies so impossibly near, the strange masculine, slightly animalistic smell of him was more than strong and that, added to his continuous invasion of her, to the feel of his claws digging in her skin and to his ever-present intense psychic scent, was getting too much for her. Suddenly, Sansa was taken over by a bout of panic. All she wanted was to push this fiend off of her, to have her own space again, for him to disappear… However, even before she could attempt anything at all, the odour of metal became as thick as steam and a rush of arousal washed over her.

 _Oh gods,_ Sansa thought, her eyelids growing heavy _. No, this is too much._ But there wasn't anything she could do to stop the demon's spell. Her only option was to submit and let herself get carried away by the uncontrollable yearning he was rousing in her. Swaying her hips with his with renewed eagerness, Sansa let her hands slide to each sides of his torso and closed her arms around his broad chest.

"Yes, that's better. Much, much better," he muttered, his voice so very raw. "Hold me tight and let me take you hard." His eyes on her were narrowed and filled with lust, bright in the dimness of the room. Behind him, his horrific bat-like wings were wide open, Sansa noticed distractedly, stretched to their full size.

Never in her life had she been so confused. She couldn't understand her own emotions, they were so contradictory and extreme. How could anyone be in such state of elation as she presently was and yet be under the impression that they were in the middle of the most horrible of nightmares? Sansa was being mounted by a hideous and enormous half-man, half-beast creature, one that had come directly from the Seven Hells just to shag her. She was being restlessly impaled by his huge, veiny charcoal dick even as a clawed hand kept her in place, as his brutishly muscled, hairy torso rubbed against her breasts… She ought to wail and sob, not to rock her hips with his and moan same as if she was a bitch in heat. But there wasn't much she could do to stop herself. Her body was filled with such need…. She was desperate for that peak she could feel coming, was aching for it.

"See, little bird, this is what demons do to witches… I intend to do it to you often. Every bloody night, many times over. You'll soon learn us demons are hard to exhaust, but I don't think you'll ever complain of that much…"

Sansa didn't say a word. It was getting hard for her to even think. Instead, she groaned and parted her legs all the more to give the demon even better access. Arching her back into him, she met each of his thrusts in her and mewed and shivered at the amazing friction of his dick in her. Still, it was not enough. She wanted _more_...

The Hound kept on going with the same vigour and began licking her neck and ear. This time, Sansa was too much in a haze to be disgusted. To the contrary, even that little bit of stimulation was bringing her over the edge. By the Seven, but she had never wanted to come so much as she did now. Her climax was within reach, a gigantic thing that scared her just as much as it allured her. Her whole body was throbbing with need, each part of her infinitely sensitive and as she pushed her pelvis against the Hound and pressed her swollen clit against him as she met his shoves, the shockwaves that went through her were simply out of this world.

"Seven buggering Hells, but you're one wild little thing, are you? You love it, don't you? Being taken by your demon... Why don't you say it aloud, hmm? Tell me you want more of this," the fiend asked, his hand closing around one of her breasts and rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Sansa wanted to weep in shame and she was sure she would later on, but for now, there was no denying the truth. "Yes... yes... please don't stop…" she let out, digging her fingernails into the thick skin of his back.

As she did, her fingers bumped into the bases of his wings and she winced, momentarily disturbed. She didn't let it slow her down though and she kept rolling her hips, dying to finally be relieved of that extraordinary pressure that was building in her.

And then she gasped and her eyes grew wide as she was abruptly submerged by a torrent of bliss so violent it briefly both blinded and deafened her. At first, she didn't even understand what was happening, she was nothing but sensations, a pulsing heart at the centre of the universe, an explosion of lightning in the never-ending darkness of cosmos. She cried out, a loud and sensual sound, and twisted under the Hound for what seemed like an eternity. Never in all of Westeros could Sansa have ever imagined anyone could possibly experience something so intent and otherworldly. For many long moments, she was completely lost to this world. This was no regular orgasm. There was something supernatural about it, or perhaps more likely, something _demonic_. It was a hundred times stronger than even the best peak Sansa had ever given herself, so long and powerful that she was straight out frightened even as she experienced it. Waves after waves of rapture repeatedly washed over her, keeping her completely prostrate, a wreck on her bed, so much so that she began wondering if the devil did not wish to keep her forever at his mercy with this. What if it never ended? What if she never came back? _Would it really be that bad?_ a part of her asked. The moans that escaped her lips didn't sound all that troubled. It wouldn't be such a terrible fate…

As she rode her seemingly never-ending climax, the Hound pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her languorously. Sansa kissed him back with a passion she could not hold back. Their tongues were entangled and rubbing together in the most intoxicating manner, their lips moving in sync. She couldn't get enough of both his lips on hers and that crazy climax she was being subjected to and she pressed her whole body to his, same as if she wished they could merge into one sole being.

When after what seemed like an eternity of unbelievable pleasure, Sansa's peak receded at long last, the demon withdrew his lips from hers. Struggling to catch her breath, Sansa leaned into his large clawed fingers as he stroked her cheek and watched him through heavy lidded eyes.

"That's a good girl. You did so well," he said with unhidden satisfaction. His strange eyes were black with lust, the oblong pupils dilated and fixed on her. "My turn now, before I lose my fucking mind…"

Flipping her onto her stomach, the Hound shoved his rock-hard shaft in her cleft. Sansa yelped, yet she was so moist that he entered her with not an ounce of resistance. Not losing a second, he resumed taking her vigorously, his weight pressing her hard into the mattress. His comings and goings were causing her a bit of pain, yet most of all, reviving her latent pleasure. Pushing her butt up, Sansa rolled her hips with his and rubbed herself against the bed by the same action, her entire body pulsing with renewed arousal. She was ready to burst again and was crying out along with the demon's growls so loudly her throat was getting raw. And then it hit her for the second time, an orgasm just as abnormally potent as the previous. She was almost sobbing with pleasure, her face bathed in tears and pressed to the pillows, when the Hound finally peaked as well. Grunting like an animal and holding her hips flush against him with his large hands, he dug his claws into her skin and licked and bit at her neck. Sansa squirmed under him, feeling his large member twitch in her like a living thing and the warmth of his seed spill in her womb.

Then after both of their climaxes had receded, the demon pulled his dick out of her and collapsed by her side.

"Come over here, little mistress," he said, his voice so very hoarse. He pulled her to him, meeting no resistance from her.

They just lay there in silence, panting for a minute or two before the Hound spoke again.

"It's done now. Wasn't so bad, was it? I told you witches enjoyed being fucked by their demon and I did not lie, have I?" the Hound rasped, caressing her shoulder with a clawed hand.

Sansa shivered against him and buried her face into his chest. The spell the demon had cast on her was fading away quickly. With it, her revulsion for the bizarre creature that he was was once more getting impossible to ignore. His bodily smell was too strong, his psychic scent invasive… The sensations he had awoken in her with his touch and claiming of her had been totally mind-blowing, there was no denying it, but now that her head wasn't blurred so much, the memory of it all was rendering exceedingly ill at ease to the point that she was even slightly nauseous. She was left feeling dirty and ashamed of herself for the way she had moaned and responded to him with such readiness and the impression only worsened as his dark spell kept fading away.

On top of that, there wasn't a part of Sansa that wasn't aching. In his eagerness, the Hound had left bruises everywhere on her skin and she was also very sore between her legs for having been pounded so restlessly. He had bitten her, hadn't he? Her neck was burning and her hips were stinging where he had held her with his clawed hands.

For all of that, the last thing Sansa wanted was to offend him. The Hound and she would be linked from now on and it'd be best if they got along as much as a human and devil possibly could. Sansa had to get used to him and she surely would with time. Or at least, she hoped so…

"Yes, my lo… I mean… _Hound_?" she whispered, unsure how she should refer to him. Calling him 'the Hound' seemed a little awkward.

He snorted. "Call me Sandor. It's my true name and not one I hear very often. If there's one person who ought to use it, it's _you_. We're intimate now, aren't we? I am yours and you, mine. We've been bound by the act of Fornication as only a witch and her demon can be," he told her, gently caressing her hair.

At hearing the demon's words, all Sansa wanted was to weep in horror, yet instead she inhaled deeply and nodded against his chest, laying a hand on his overly muscular and hot torso.

"I'm not done consuming that bound we've just created though. I want you to come again, many, _many times_. I want to hear you cry out my name as you do and beg me for more. Because I know you will. It's only a question of time before you stop being so easily embarrassed and let go well and truly. Daybreak is still a few hours away; we'll get to know each other better until then, you'll see..."

Sansa wasn't sure whether to be appalled or to look forward to the prospect of what he was promising her. It was humiliating to be used the way he did, to see herself be transformed in the most lascivious woman possible in the blink of an eye by a spell she had absolutely no way of stopping. And the Hound, gods, but he gave her the creeps and no wonder: he was not even human and everything about him kept reminding it to her.

On the other hand though… Well, there was no way around it… It… it had been so, so, _so_ _good_ and there was that other part of Sansa that was dying to know another orgasm like the ones she had just experienced. It troubled her that even without the haze of the demon's spell doing its work on her, she still craved for this in spite of how much he repelled her…

 _Oh gods, if only he could just disappear,_ Sansa mused, squeezing her eyes shut. _If only I could be left alone._ More than anything, she needed space and time to think in peace. But of course, whatever she wished, the Hound would not leave her for as long as there was darkness and she didn't try to push him away as he began foundling her again. She would have time enough to ponder on all that had happened to her tomorrow, when he was gone...

* * *

The Hound took her again, over and over, and brought her to that same insane completion she had experienced earlier three additional times. Sansa had not even known it was possible for someone to come so many times in only one night. The Hound was like a ravenous beast, one who had been starved for too long and who could never know satiation. Though she was increasingly tired and tender – so much so that she wanted to weep by moments – the devil kept her in an intent state of arousal with his continuous spells and she thus went on with an urge similar to his.

She straddled him like her life depended on it, sucked his huge, dark penis with a hunger that made her blush even as she did it and let him screw her on all four same as if she was his bitch, crying out his name exactly as he had predicted she would. It was all so frantic and Sansa barely had a moment to come round after each bout before the other started. She felt lost; it was all too much for her and she wanted it to stop even as her body begged for more. Nevertheless eventually, the faintest ray of light came through the window and the demon faded away like mist.

"See you tomorrow night, Sansa Stark," he told her before he disappeared for good.

For a long moment, Sansa stared at the emptiness where he had been, shivering like a leaf, but then she let herself fall onto her bed and burst into tears. She sobbed violently for a whole minute, until the last of her strength had been exhausted, and fell into a deep dreamless sleep a mere instant later.

* * *

It was a beam of bright sunlight falling directly on her face that roused Sansa from her deep slumber. Frowning, she twisted away from it, the blankets under her feeling strangely rough against her skin, like they had been damaged somehow. Rolling onto her stomach, she groaned as her body seemed to ache everywhere. Her hand, her neck, her thighs, her hips, her shoulders, everything hurt… even her pussy was throbbing and sore like never before. It took her a few seconds to remember everything that had transpired in the dark of night.

There had been a demon in her room… she had lost her virginity to him… let him take her, over and over again…

"Oh by the Seven," Sansa breathed, her eyes popping open at once.

As every detail of the night gradually came back to her, she began shaking uncontrollably and coughing same as if she would retch. The reek of smoke was nauseating and tears were welling in her eyes. Sansa had fallen asleep over her partly burned comforter and just pulled it around herself, she realised, wrinkling her nose. She might as well have been lying on a bed of ashes. _Oh by the Seven, but I'm gonna stink too_ , Sansa mused, forcing herself to sit up. She pushed herself up with her hand and winced at the pain it brought her. Opening her palm, she gazed down at the cut she had given herself to summon the demon. You could tell it had been deep. While it had closed completely thanks to the devil's dark magic, it was still red and gruesome and would without a doubt leave an ugly scar.

Then, Sansa rose her gaze from her hand and gasped in shock as she looked around herself. Her room was an utter mess with sand and melted candles on the floor and random objects lying around. Some of her furniture was slightly burned and her curtains and blanket were black and scorched. In the light of day, everything seemed a thousand times worse… _This is a catastrophe, a true nightmare!_ Sansa though, her heart hammering in her chest. What were her parents going to say when they saw all of that?

With shaking legs, she stood from her bed as naked as on her name day and headed to her high free-stranding mirror. On her way, she saw it was a little past 10am on her alarm radio. She had slept for only about five hours, she surmised, and was still very tired. The juncture of her thighs was wet and sticky with the demon's sperm and as she walked, drops of it were slowly running down her inner thighs in the most unpleasant manner.

"Oh, gods!" Sansa let out as she saw her reflection in the mirror and took in the several bite marks and many scratches that covered her skin. "This is horrible…"

 _By the Maiden, but why? Why have I ever done any of this?_ she wondered, lifting both her hands to her face. Her throat was getting tight, same as it always did when she was just about to cry and her bottom lip was quavering against her palm.

However, just as she was about to allow herself to fall into despair, a sensation unlike anything she had ever experienced coming from deep within her stopped her short. It was so odd, like a ball of energy bubbling in her core. _Could it be…? Could it be what I've always lacked?_ Sansa wondered, barely daring to hope. She had heard it described hundreds of times by other witches, the sensation of power gathering in you, of having your well filled to the brim.

Sansa closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Tears were prickling her eyes, but she managed to get a grip of herself and concentrate on that new feeling in her. She did it for a long time, utterly mesmerised by it, until she could almost see it in truth. Then, she pictured the bite marks and scratches and visualised them disappear - slowly, slowly but surely... Was it her imagination, or… or did it not sting so much anymore? Sansa didn't dare open her eyes, no matter how much she really longed to, not until she was done.

When some time later, she gathered she had to be, Sansa opened her eyes in slits and tentatively gazed at herself in the mirror. From the instant she did, she was stunned to see the scratches and bite marks had all faded away so much that they were barely visible anymore.

"This is incredible," she whispered, her eyes wide with disbelief and lips agape.

A mix of excitement and wonder, tainted with a hint of fear, was quickly threatening to get the better of her, but Sansa forced herself to remain calm. There was still work to be done and she had best not lose her focus. Shutting her eyes again, she imagined the furniture as it had been no later then yesterday evening and waited for a few long minutes in deep concentration, her teeth clenched with the effort. Waves of energy soon flew around her, like a warm breeze coursing through her room, telling her something was happening indeed.

Sansa kept going until she couldn't continue anymore and was so drained, she feared she might faint. Opening her eyes, she was utterly astonished when she saw everything was as it should be. The relief which flooded over her was incredible. She was so very grateful that she might have gotten down to her knees and started praying the Seven in thanks if not for the origins of her new strength. In spite of her joy, she was left totally shattered and could barely stand on her feet anymore. Struggling to catch her breath, Sansa threw herself over her back onto her now free of scorches bed and gazed at the ceiling, her chest heaving. Never in her life had she felt so weak, but was it really surprising? Until just a few minutes ago, she had never so much as cast the simplest of spells and here she had just managed to turn back time on herself and many objects. This was certainly never heard of, to become so powerful so fast.

In her inexperience, Sansa had completely emptied her well and wasted some of her vital energy in the same breath. That was clumsy. She knew enough about Skill and Craft to be aware of how dangerous doing so was, yet seeing how flat she had been until now, she had never been taught to use power properly. _I'll learn with time. I won't do it again,_ Sansa promised herself. For now, she would need to nap a little to regain her strength and everything would be much better afterwards.

Then, all of a sudden, it dawned on her well and truly - _the implications of it all_ – and a torrent of tears filled her eyes in just a fraction of a second. "I am a witch," Sansa said aloud, a tremulous smile curving her lips. With that, she began crying and laughing at the same time. "I am a witch," she repeated even louder through her laughter and sobs.

And just like that, all of yesterday's events took a whole new meaning - they all made sense. Sansa did not regret any of it, she realised. Nothing at all. And she would do it all over again if she had to, for it had been worth it. Oh, how it had been worth it…

 _She was a witch!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Here's another chapter! I hope you keep enjoying this little fic! If you do, please let me know. ;)_

* * *

The haze of sleep was thick and heavy around Sansa and she would gladly have stayed within its comfy arms if not the troubling images that flashed in her mind. Gradually, consciousness came back to her as well as the memory of all that had taken place in the dark of night in the very bed she laid in. Groaning, she shifted between her sheets and stretched her arms and neck.

 _Right, I've fallen asleep,_ Sansa remembered. She had been totally exhausted after having cast her spells and had had no choice but to return to bed to rest a little. Opening her eyes in slits, she squinted and looked around herself. While her rooms was bright with sunlight, half of it was cloaked in shadows, as it always was in the afternoon _._

 _In the afternoon? W_ _hat time is it?_ Sansa wondered, her eyes growing wide. Jerking her head to the side, she peered at the clock radio to see in consternation that it was almost 3pm.

"Oh, by the holy Seven!" she said aloud, sitting up at once.

Arya would be coming back home at any moment now! Sansa needed to tidy up her room before her sister had a chance to arrive, to take a shower and get dressed! While she had managed to heal herself well enough and to remove all traces of fire, her chamber was still an utter mess and the smell of smoke definitely lingered. She had to do something about it!

In a hurry, Sansa rose to her feet, but she staggered a little as she took her first steps. She was still weak, she realised. Though it was tempting, it would be best if she didn't attempt to use her newfound power to clean up her room. Doing so would be too risky with the way she had emptied her well earlier today. Letting out a long, weary sigh, she strode to the bathroom she shared with Arya and got in the shower.

For many long minutes, Sansa scrubbed herself clean with much more vigour than she normally used, yet no matter how hard she tried, she could not rid herself of the impression she had of being soiled. She felt filthy, as if her every pore was filled with the reek of smoke as well as with the demon's powerful scent. On top of that, her crotch was sticky with his semen. She didn't remember how many times he'd come, but it had to be around five, which was a lot from as far as she knew. Sansa grimaced in disgust at the thought of it, scrubbing even harder

As she lathered shampoo into her long hair, the sting in her palm reminded her of the cut she had given herself to call forth the demon. The Hound had only partly mended it when he licked her and she had forgotten to include it in her healing spell earlier on. _I'll take care of that later,_ Sansa decided, as she stepped out of the shower.

After having dried herself with a towel, Sansa hurriedly put on a t-shirt and hoodie with yoga pants and tied her wet hair in a messy pony tail. Without losing an instant, she opened all of the second floor's windows to freshen up the air and started picking up and putting back in place all of the different objects which had fallen to the ground with the demon's apparition. Among them, she found her bloody nightgown and torn panties and cringed at seeing the poor state they had been left in. There was no saving either and thus with a sigh, she tossed them in the garbage bag she had brought up from the kitchen. The black candles she had used for her Evocation had been burnt to the wick, their wax glued to the old wooden floor. Sansa tore them off as best she could and threw everything in the garbage bag.

The floor was covered with the white sand she had used for her pentagram, though the shape of it had been entirely lost by now. Working as fast as she could, Sansa swept the grains in a pile with a broom and then used a dustpan to shovel the lion's share of it into the garbage bag. Afterwards, she brought up the vacuum from downstairs and removed what remained until not even a grain was left. Just as she was returning to her room after having stored back in place the vacuum, broom and dustpan, she heard the sound of someone entering the house.

 _Oh, no! Already?_ Sansa thought, her heart jumping against her ribcage. Panic rising in her, she rushed to her closet and tossed her garbage bag inside, yet no sooner had she closed the door that she heard her sister shout from the hallway.

"Seven Hells! What the fuck has happened in here?!" her frenzied voice echoed through the house.

 _Oh gods, is it really that noticeable?_ Sansa wondered, her whole body growing stiff at once. The shear terror she had heard in her sister's voice froze her blood.

In no time, Arya's footsteps could be heard resounding as she climbed up the grand wooden staircase as fast as she could. "Fuck!" she cursed again. "Sansa! Sansa, where are _you_?!"

Too petrified to so much as move a finger, Sansa waited in place for her sister to arrive, standing at the centre of her chamber as immobile as a statue.

A second later, Arya was slamming the door open and storming inside her room. Her eyes were wide with dread and her face as white as paper, which contrasted quite a lot with the messy black makeup, probably from yesterday, she had around her eyes. She was all dressed in black: black jeans, black combat boots, a black woollen sweater with a black leather jacket over it. mum hated her style and often complained about it.

"Sansa! You're alright! Oh my gods!" Arya exclaimed in disbelief. For a brief instant, she glanced upward, as if to thank some benevolent god, but then her features twisted in an expression of incomprehension and alarm and she gazed down at Sansa. "What the fuck ever happened in here, Sansa? Have… have you done something?" she asked somewhat hesitantly. Her incredulity was to be expected: Sansa was indeed not one to ever cause problems and even less if said problems involved magic. This couldn't possibly have been caused by _her_.

"What… what do you mean?" Sansa asked innocently, unwittingly cradling her scarred hand against her chest.

" _What I mean_?" Arya repeated, her eyes growing as wide as saucers. Taking a step forward, she craned her neck to glare up at her. Though she was only two years younger, she was a good six inches shorter than Sansa. "You're joking, are you?" she continued heatedly. "It stinks of smoke in here! And by the Stranger, can't you sense it? Some wicked spell has been cast between those four walls, you won't make me believe anything less!" Wincing, Arya looked around herself and shuddered visibly. "And there's like… this… this strange psychic scent - unlike anything I've ever sensed! - and something like untamed energy trapped in your room... It's so, so weird, and not in a good way!"

As she heard her sister speak, Sansa felt the colour drain from her face. Arya was not one to be easily frightened, thus to see her freak out so much was not very reassuring. _It's just the unknown. I've seen the Hound in person and he's not… not so bad,_ she tried to convince herself, though in truth she failed.

"What has happened, Sansa?" Arya insisted when she didn't answer. With both her hands, she grabbed her by the front of her hoodie and gazed up at her, her eyes-half pleading, half-crazed. "You look like a _mess_ , Sansa - it's not like you at all! Have you looked yourself in the mirror? Something very strange has taken place in here and you know it, there's no doubt in my mind about it! What was it? Tell me!" she practically begged, shaking her.

Gulping, Sansa knit her brow as if in pain and shut her eyes to better reflect upon her situation. If Arya could have sensed so much from the instant she stepped into the house, there was no way in all of Westeros she could ever keep what she had done from her parents when they arrived back home tomorrow afternoon. Arya had Skill and was much more knowledgeable in Craft than her. While Sansa had been given theorical lessons on the matter as anyone with witch blood, her sister had had practical lessons on top of that and been taught how to use her power ever since it first started appearing a few years ago. There was no way around it: though Sansa would have preferred not to open up to Arya, she needed help and badly at that! And who else was there to ask apart from her sister?

"Arya… I'll… I'll tell you everything," Sansa started in a quavering voice." Just promise me that you won't tell the parents."

Staring at her with an expression of horror, Arya removed her hands from the front of her hoodie. "So you… you _really_ did something…" she murmured in disbelief. For a short instant, she just stared at her in silence, yet soon, her curiosity got the better of her and she narrowed her eyed at Sansa. "But I… I don't understand. What in the Seven Hells could you ever have done to cause all of this?" she asked, growing agitated all over again.

"Promise me you won't tell first!" Sansa insisted, her pulse pounding in her ears.

Clearly ill-at-ease and a bit irritated as well, Arya agreed nonetheless. "Alright, I won't, but I may not have to! The psychic scent in here is _strong_!" she warned, pointing a finger at her.

Sansa bit at her lip, her worry suddenly too much to bear. "Oh gods, Arya! Is it really _that_ bad? You'll help me with this, won't you?"

"With what? What is it that you did?" Arya cried out, losing her patience, which wasn't plentiful to begin with. Her face was all red and her brow furrowed.

Sansa breathed in deeply and looked down at her feet, oddly ashamed as the words finally came. "I… I summoned a demon."

"You _what_?!" Arya yelled at once. For a brief instant, she remained silent - clearly too stunned to speak - until the meaning of Sansa's admission truly dawned on her. "Oh, gods, Sansa…" she whispered, her face dropping. She looked like she was about to be sick, but Arya was too curious by nature not to ask questions. "And it… it worked?"

"What do you think?" Sansa replied, knitting her brow and waving around herself.

"Yeah, sorry, stupid question. Of course, it worked!" she said, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "That's the whole problem in fact… Oh, Sansa! Why… why would you ever do something like _that_? Don't you know how dangerous that sort of magic is?"

"Dangerous? Well, no… I mean, yes, I know it, of course! But I'm… I'm _totally fine_ , don't you worry! Nothing bad has happened," she assured her, trying to sound as convincing as she could.

Wincing, Arya shook her head, clearly not buying any of it. As she did, her gaze was caught by Sansa's hand, still cradled against her chest, and she seized it and pulled at it.

"Shit!" she let out as she opened her fist and saw the ugly scar that crossed her palm. "Sansa… you _really_ did this… That's insane… you're crazy…"

Sansa's heart was hammering so fast, she was starting to get dizzy. "How… how do you even know about that? That a witch has to cut her palm to achieve Evocation? I sure didn't know much at all about summoning devils before I've found that grimoire I used."

"It's just a subject I'm curious about," Arya explained, her stare fixed on Sansa's scar, examining it. "I've read about ancient and foreign magic a lot, went through so many of the old dusty books of the family's occult library. It interests me, but I would never, _ever_ attempt something like what you did! That's just plain insane!"

Sansa wasn't sure what she should say to that. Suddenly, she wondered if Arya was right and that she was not crazy indeed. Her eyes filling with tears, she wrenched her hand free and hid it against herself.

Grimacing, Arya raised both of her palms to her face and rubbed it hard. "Seven Hells! So yeah, everything makes all too sense now: that strange psychic scent, the smell of smoke… it explains a lot." Her hands went down and she seemed nervous now. "You… you slept with the demon you summoned, did you?"

"Well, _yeah_ , I did…" Sansa admitted as if it was nothing, a blush burning her cheeks. "It's part of that whole Evocation thing after all, as you apparently already know …"

Arya threw her head back and laughed, though she didn't sound happy at all. "Wow, well it wouldn't have worked if you hadn't, would it? And it did work; I can feel it in you. You're different. There's like this new strength bubbling in you, I should've noticed it before actually."

"You can feel it?" Sansa asked, her interest piqued.

"Of course I can! You can feel my strength, can you?" Arya told her, her face twisting in a sneer, same as if Sansa's question had been stupid. "One way or another, it doesn't change that what you did is _cra-zy_! To summon a devil and then let him screw you? That's some intense shit, Sansa!" she shouted, clearly still in shock. "You really wanted power, didn't you? To go to such length!"

Sansa didn't remember having ever been scolded by her sister, though the opposite had certainly happened quite a few times. It was a strange and unpleasant experience and soon, tears were welling so much in her eyes at that she was nearly rendered blind. She sniffed, abashed and yet the truth needed to come out. "I was just… just so tired of being _inadequate_. You don't know how it feels! You have Skill!" she let out bitterly, crying well and truly now. "You have Skill, but I have none – none at all! - no matter how hard I try…"

"Well, you're mistaken here. I do know _very well_ how it feels to be inadequate," Arya retorted, crossing her arms before her chest. "I may have Skill and a talent for casting spells, that's apparently all I'm good at. You're the one who's an A grade student, who sings well, who's beautiful and elegant, -"

"But it's not the same at all! Those are all things you could work on!" Sansa pointed out. "You could be good at school if you put your heart into it and you're not ugly either, Arya! You just don't seem to care about your appearance and don't put any effort in it either. You never agree when I offer to show you how to apply makeup properly or to lend you some of my clothes. Unlike you, with no Skill, there was never any way I improved my Craft, no matter how hard I tried! I was stuck!"

"Not anymore, apparently. You did find a way to gain Skill after all …" Arya commented, eying her cynically.

" _Exactly_!" Sansa replied, drying her tears with the back of her hand. "This Evocation, it was the last hope I had of ever becoming a true witch… And it worked, Arya! _It worked!_ The demon I summoned, he promised me he would help me become very powerful and this morning when I woke up, I indeed managed to weave my very first spells _ever_ and remove the scorch marks there was on my chest of drawers, bed posts and writing dask, to repair my curtains and comforter. I even succeeded in healing the scratches I had and-'

"Your furniture caught fire?!" Arya cut her, jumping in place.

Somehow as she spoke, Sansa had not realised how bewildering her tale would be to her sister. "Well, yeah. I mean, I opened a breach between this world and the Seven Hells so it was to be expected, I guess," she replied uneasily. "My whole room caught aflame for a brief instant when the demon arrived. It was scary!"

"Wow, that's intense! No wonder it reeks of smoke so much! Good job on your spells, though you didn't do so well with that mean cut you have on your hand. It barely seems healed at all to me. I'll need to show you how to do it."

Without thinking, Sansa removed her hand from her chest and looked at her palm. The slash was an angry crimson and the skin around it a paler shade of red and swollen. It didn't look so good indeed. "I didn't think of heeling that one, don't know why. When I looked myself in the mirror this morning after I woke up and saw all the scratches I had on my skin, I just wanted to be rid of those. I emptied my whole well doing it."

"You had scratches? What the hells did that demon do to you?"

Sansa blushed deeply, embarrassed to have to share details of her previous night. "He did not do it on purpose, not really! It's just that… that he has claws. So, _you know_ … in the heat of the moment…"

"He has claws? Eww, Sansa! That's gross!" Arya cried out, sticking her tongue out.

"Well he's a demon, Arya! He's not gonna look like you and me!"

Her features twisted in an expression of disgust, Arya snorted, clearly not convinced. "Does he have hooves too, and a tail and horns while we're at it?" she inquired mockingly.

"No tail and hooves - _thankfully_!" Sansa let out, glancing at the celling as if the thank the Seven. "But he… he does have horns and wings..."

That caught Arya's interest. "Wings? Can he fly?" she asked, all traces of revulsion vanishing from her face in a split second.

"I don't know, we just stayed in my room and I didn't ask him."

Disappointed, Arya frowned at her sister. "Remember to do it when you see him next. I'd really like to know." Then, her frown deepening, she went on: "What does he looks like apart from that?"

Sansa felt her face grow even warmer, but she answered nonetheless. "Well, he's quite impressive actually. I was really frightened when he first took form in my room! And was still when he left to be honest… He's really, _really_ tall - like almost seven feet to be sure! - and _sooo_ muscular, more than anyone I've ever met. His skin is grey and burning to the touch! His eyes are probably the strangest part of him, though. They have oblong pupils and glow in the darkness. It's very unsettling to look at them, I'll tell you that! His wings are membranous, like bat wings, huge and black. Oh, and he has that odd, very long tongue-"

"Eww, I think I've heard enough for now! Don't want to know where that was going…" Arya cut her. Grimacing, she shook her head. "Gods! He must be quite a fucking sight! And to think that you've always mooned over the most generic and boring pretty boys. I can hardly believe it! You've just lost your virginity to a monster! And now, you'll be bound to him forever, Sansa."

Sansa didn't add anything to that. She still had a hard time wrapping her head around the concept of it. It was all very abstract, impossible to grasp. _Forever:_ what did that even mean?

"So, you said you wanted me to help you? What is it that you'd like me to do?" Arya demanded after a moment of silence.

"Oh yes, Arya! _Please_!" Sansa exclaimed, grabbing both of her sister's upper arms. Arya flinched, but she didn't attempt to take her distances. "You need to help me! We have to find a way to get rid of that smell and of the demon's psychic scent. I don't want the parents to find out what I did when they come back home tomorrow!"

Gazing at her like she was retarded, Arya burst out laughing. "How by the Stranger do you imagine you could ever hide something like _that_ from people who live under the same bloody roof as you? The best we could do would be to keep it from them for a day or two at the _very_ _most_ , but even there, there's really no guarantee we'd succeed."

Sansa knew her sister was right, of course. She was no idiot; that scent the Hound exuded, it was far too strong to mask! He could only appear during nighttime and if Sansa was always home at night, so were her parents. There was no way they didn't feel his presence!

"Oh gods! You're right, I know it of course! But couldn't we at least try? I would rather not have to tell them right away. I'll take any delay you can offer! It'll give me time to gather my courage. Oh, please, Arya! Tell me you'll help me?" Sansa pleaded, tightening her fingers around her sister's upper arms.

Arya hesitated for a couple of seconds, but in the end, she gave in. "All right, I'll see what I can do. You'll owe me a favour though, you realise that? A really big one!"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Sansa threw her arms around her sister and hugged her, feeling her skinny frame grow stiff. "Oh, thank you, Arya! Thank you so much! Don't worry, you'll only have to ask when you'll need my help! I'll be there for you, whatever it is!" she promised.

* * *

For the following few hours, Arya weaved a number of spells. The first she cast was to eliminate the reek of smoke in the house. Then she carried on with all sorts of random, innocuous spells in the hope that such an abundance of magic would mask the Hound's psychic scent. Arya was clever, Sansa thought in a mix of envy and pride, because instead of emptying her well in order to achieve all of that, she tapped the energy that had been released with the Hound's arrival and trapped in the house afterwards and used it for her spells. By doing so, she solved two problems at once without using even a drop of her own power. That was ingenious, Sansa had to admit, and another proof of her sister's talent in Craft.

Later on, when barely any trace of the Hound's psychic scent was left in the air and the stench of smoke gone for good, both sisters sat on the couch together, drinking a glass of soda as they waited for the frozen pizza they had put in the oven for dinner to be cooked.

"Oh, bloody Hells! I can't do it," Arya groaned in frustration, releasing Sansa's hand. She had been attempting for the last few minutes to heal Sansa's cut but kept failing. "There's like some sort of shield around it, like it's been put there so that you keep your scar," she commented.

Looking at her palm, Sansa touched her scar delicately with her finger. It was still slightly sensitive and swollen. "The Hound licked it to stop the bleeding. You think it may be because of it?"

Arya grimaced, not bothering to hide her revulsion. "He licked it? No wonder he's called the Hound! But yeah, it's probably it. It would make sense if he wanted you to stay marked. That cut, it symbolised the offering you've made. He wants you to keep it."

Sansa nodded distractedly. "He did say I needed to be branded now that I think about it. I'll have to hide it. And I'll try to come up with a believable story, if ever the parents see it, or anyone at school."

"Mum and dad will notice it - it's inevitable! - but you may manage to conceal it for a time. One way or another, it's not like you'll be able to keep this summoning you did from them for very long. You do realise that from the _instant_ your demon next appears in your bedroom, all of our good work will go to waste? Every one present in this house will sense his presence, there's absolutely no doubt in my mind about it. And if he comes tonight, well it won't leave us a lot of time to remove his psychic scent from the air. You'll need to stop him from visiting you for as long as you can if you truly wish to delay confronting the parents about it."

At a lost, Sansa gazed at her sister with wide eyes filled with worry. "How am I even supposed to do that, Arya? I have no clue at all!"

"Oh, gods, you really are starting from square one, are you?" Arya replied, rolling her eyes. "Well, I guess I'll have to teach you to shield yourself. It's magic 101 and can be very useful when you don't want to be bothered with the telepathic thoughts of others or stuff like that."

"Thank you, Arya! Yes! I certainly would like to learn that!" Sansa let out, utterly relieved that her sister had a solution to this fix. How very resourceful she was!

Waving her gratefulness with the back of her hand, Arya straightened her back and closed her eyes. "First, I advise that you shut your eyes to better focus on your spell," she started.

Sansa obeyed and waited for her to continue.

"Picture a huge brick wall, high and tall going all around you, and even over you like the roof of a castle, and then concentrate on the ball of energy there is in your core."

"Yes," Sansa said, feeling the strength in her flicker like fire.

"Tap that energy and visualise it going into your wall."

Sansa did as she was asked, her power flaring.

"Gods! Not so fast, you'll exhaust yourself! Stop it!" Arya ordered in near panic. She seized her sister's wrist and yanked at it, as if to wake her up.

Jumping in surprise, Sansa opened her eyes and released the hold she had on her spell. "Was it really that bad?" she asked, panting. She was feeling very tired indeed, she realised, and leaned into the couch.

"You're joking right? That was fucking intense, Sansa!" Arya said, laughing nervously. For a moment, she remained silent, staring at her in a strange mix of concern and wonder. "Your spell worked alright, though," she added. "Your shield is strong, very strong, but you've just managed to empty your well all over again in like two seconds! That's crazy and so bloody dangerous! You have a lot of power, probably too much for someone who never has had a drop of it and has no clue of how to use it. You just threw it all with no restraint whatsoever and wasted a whole bunch of it in the process! You'll need to learn to manage it. What you just did, it was just like if you tried to fill a shot glass with a firefighter hose opened to full pressure. Chances are, you'll end up breaking your glass instead of filling it! I think you'll be needing lessons from now on, a whole lot of them, and not just from me. There are limits to my knowledge in Craft."

Sansa grimaced. "Thank you, Arya. Thank you so much. You're the greatest!"

* * *

On that night, Sansa laid for a long time in her bed, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. It was eerily quiet in her room, but the silence did little to quell her nerves and she found herself unable to sleep. Every now and then, she would sense a strange pull inside of her and at times she even fancied she could smell the Hound's alien animalistic odour. Yet for all of that, her shield held up and no demon was to be seen. As Arya had taught her, every few hours Sansa visualised the imaginary brick wall she had built around herself and tapped additional energy into it. Following her sister's instruction, she was extremely careful not to use to much of it at a time, though such restraint required a control she still struggled to master.

Unbidden, images of her previous night kept coming back to her, of how restlessly the Hound had taken her till daybreak, of how much she had moaned and gasped in pleasure… It was degrading, the thought of how he had used his power to make her wanton and horny in order that she didn't resist as he subjected her to his most primal demonic urges. He had controlled and used her like she was a mere doll he could do whatever he willed with and satiated his every fancy with her without caring even one bit if it was something she truly wanted.

Sansa was disgusted and somewhat affronted… and yet… and yet as she remembered every detail of the night of debauchery she had spent with the Hound, she couldn't stop the warmth which was pooling down her lower belly from spreading. That she be aroused at the memory of it made little sense, still it took her every bit of self-will she had not to give in to the intent craving she had of touching herself.

With much effort, Sansa held on and, eventually after what seemed like many hours of tossing and turning into her bed, she fell asleep.

* * *

On the following day, Sansa's parents arrived back home in the early afternoon. From her room's window, Sansa watched them as they both stepped out of dad's gleaming, sober black car. Mum and dad walked toward the family's Victorian manor's doorway, Bran and Rickon running after them even as Sansa's heart beat a little faster in her chest with each step they took.

They entered the house and Arya rejoined them in the hallway to greet them. Wringing her hands, Sansa waited and listened, too nervous to face them just yet.

"Arya! Guess what we did this week end? Bran and me went rock climbing at the mountains by uncle Benjen's house! It was so cool, except Bran never waited after me!" Rickon nearly shouted as he entered.

"Pfff! That does sound like Bran!" Arya replied. "I'm glad to hear you had fun."

"Hey! It's not my fault if he's so slow!" Bran retorted

"Anyone's slow when climbing with you, Bran," Arya pointed out.

"Children! Won't you please stop bickering all the time?" mum said, not unkindly. She sighed audibly. "How was your week-end, Arya?"

"Fun! I went to Weasel's house. We watched horror movies and ate pop corn for dinner. We had a blast!" Arya replied with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Silence fell after that and Sansa could almost feel how mum's interest was suddenly piqued. She heard her sniff and swirl around.

"What's that? The air is thick and coppery. You've been quite active with your Craft practice, haven't you, Arya?"

"You're right, Cat. There's been a lot of activity in here," dad's deep voice came. He sounded suspicious, like he was suspecting Arya had misbehaved as she so often did.

"Well… I just… I just figured I could show a few tricks to… to Sansa," Arya admitted.

"To Sansa?" mum repeated, puzzled. "Why… why would you-"

There was no turning back now. Even as her sister spoke, Sansa strode down the grand staircase until she had rejoined her family in the hallway. Out of breath, she waved at everyone. "Hi, mum! Hi, dad!" she told them shyly. As always, both mum and dad were dressed in elegant yet practical, dark clothing.

"Good afternoon, Sansa. How are…" Mum frowned, pausing to look her over, her gaze going up and down her frame. She narrowed her eyed and took as couple of steps back, same as an artist taking some distance from their canvas to better assess it. Her face lit up. "Sansa… Am I not mistaken, or have you… have you…?"

Before Sansa could utter a single word, Arya interposed herself: "Yes, mum. It happened! Sansa… _Sansa has blossomed_ … She has become a witch well and truly over the week-end!"

Her face burning in shame, Sansa watched as her mother's, bothers' and father's features all lite up. Everyone was ecstatic.

"Sansa! This is wonderful! You… your Skill has finally quickened! I'm so happy!" mum cried out, her eyes teary.

"Oh, honey, this is amazing!" dad exclaimed, his genuine expression of joy breaking her heart.

Rickon and Bran strode to her, smiling. "Yay! Now you'll be able to cast spells, just like Arya!" Rickon shouted. He always loved it when their sister weaved spells to amuse him, like when she controlled his action figures and orchestrated huge battles among them or made his bed levitate while he laid in it as she read him his bedtime story.

Sansa was uneasy and consumed with guilt. She felt as if she was lying to her family for they didn't know of the unorthodox way she had managed to win that new power she had, but for the moment, she couldn't find it in her to tell them the whole truth. They would learn of it soon enough anyhow.

"Yeah, I'm so happy!" Sansa said as enthusiastically as she could. "I've been praying for that moment for so long!"

"Didn't I tell you you didn't have to worry?" mum said with a large motherly smile. "For some women, power takes longer to arise. Though we tried to accept it, I've never genuinely believed you could be without Skill. For nearly a thousand years, there has never been a Tully or Stark women without Strength. It was just a question of time."

Sansa tried hard not to lose her smile at that. While it had certainly not been her intention, her mother's comment brought her to feel even more worthless. _Gods, am I really such an exception? The only one so powerless in a thousand years? The only one who had to conjure a devil to gain strength…_

Although it didn't stop her from feeling ashamed of her actions, in the end her mother's comment did comfort Sansa in her decision. There was no regretting having called forth the Hound, not in these conditions. _Sandor,_ she remembered. _That's how he wants me to call him._ With their alliance, she would save face and not be _that_ Stark. She wasn't sure how her parents would react when they'd learn of her Evocation. They wouldn't be pleased, that was a given, however, they would get used to the idea with time. It was not like they would have any other option anyway.

And with that, Sansa gulped and forced herself to grin. "Yes, mum, it was just a question of time," she agreed. Everything would be okay, she told herself as she wrapped her arms around he mother in a hug.


	5. Chapter 5

_Yay! A new update for this one! I do hope that those who read it will enjoy! Please let me know if you do! :D_

 _Just so that you know, in this fic, Meryn and Boros are of an age with Joffrey and Sansa._

* * *

"Hurry up now! We're going to be late!" Arya let out impatiently. Her brow furrowed and eyes wide, she was waiting by the bathroom door with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Sorry!" Sansa exclaimed. With shaking fingers, she applied some of mum's concealer over the dark circles she had under her eyes as fast as she could.

The night had been long and restless for Sansa. She had barely slept and had only been unconscious for a couple of hours at the most when her alarm-clock went off. Without even realising what she was doing, she had pressed on the snooze key many, many times until her sister finally shook her awake some ten minutes ago. Sansa usually rose much earlier than Arya and left a good twenty minutes before her. She liked to take her time in the morning and to arrive in advance at school, yet today would be a sad exception to the rule. She was so late, there was no time to even eat and fix her hair properly. She looked an utter mess, but there was no helping it! There was simply no time!

"Enough now! Let's go!" Arya insisted, pulling her by the arm.

Sansa didn't resist and they both climbed down the stairs and ran to the entranceway. Outside, the weather was a bit chilly and so Sansa put on her cute marine blue trench coat over her school uniform. Arya was clad in her usual leather jacket and combats boots, both of which contrasted oddly with the plaid pleaded skirt and simple white blouse every girl wore at the private high school they attended.

"So, you managed to block him again last night, huh?" Arya asked even as they both jogged through the street that led to their school

"I did," Sansa replied, already out of breath. "Don't know for how long I can keep this up - this shield is really draining me! I barely slept last night. I kept feeling this strange pull inside of me. It was stronger than on the previous night. He's not happy, I can tell!" With that, Sansa groaned as a pang went through her foot. Gods, those ballerina shoes she was wearing may be flats, they were not well-suited to running.

"You may be losing strength. You did get your new power through him, so perhaps you need to constantly get laid to keep it? Like he has magic, demon jizz or something?"

"Eww, Arya! You're gross!" Sansa let out, grimacing. "But, yeah, I did wonder about it too, just not in those words," she admitted grudgingly. "For the time being, I still have Skill though, it's just that I need a proper night of sleep! I'll try to keep the Hound away a little longer still. I'm not ready to tell the parents about him yet."

Arya laughed and, in her distraction, she almost tripped on a crack in the sidewalk, yet she thankfully managed to regain her footing and kept jogging. "You won't have to tell them," she said once she had recovered. "They'll know the second your demon comes to you."

At that instant, the school's bell was heard ringing from afar, informing them they only had ten minutes until the first class started.

"Oh, gods!" Sansa squeaked in panic.

" _Hurry_!" Arya shouted, breaking into a run.

Sansa tried to follow suit, yet she was much slower than her sister. Those thin ballerinas were really _the worst_! Still, how Arya could run so fast with half laced combat boots was a true mystery. _A spell!_ Sansa realised as she caught a faint metallic whiff. If only she was not so drained from keeping that shield up, she might have done the same.

"Sorry, can't wait after you! If I have one more detention, dad has threatened to take away my phone for a whole week! This is _not_ happening!" Arya cried out even as she sprinted faster and faster, until Sansa had lost sight of her.

Running all the way to the school grounds took forever to Sansa and she was completely exhausted by the time she finally walked though the threshold. All of her efforts proved worthless though, as the bell rang a second time just an instant after she had stepped inside. _Oh, by the Seven!_ Sansa thought, her heart in her throat. She was late - for the first time ever in her life, _she was late to school_! She almost wanted to weep at the notion – this was not like her at all! - yet she managed to hold back her tears, somehow, and resumed running through the corridor.

While being late of a minute or fifteen wouldn't change a thing, Sansa's pride pushed her to keep hurrying towards her class without passing by her locker to drop her coat first. When she entered the classroom, out of breath and dishevelled, her cheeks reddened as all of the other students peered her way in curiosity.

"Sansa, here you are. You are late, young lady," Mrs. Mordane remarked, a frown creasing her brow.

"I know! I'm so sorry, Mrs. Mordane. I didn't hear my alarm-clock as it went off this morning," Sansa told her sheepishly.

The old woman did look sorry for her. "Go take your place, Sansa. I'm afraid I'll have no choice but to give your name to Principal Baelish for his after-school detention."

Gulping, Sansa nodded and sat down before her desk at the centre of the classroom. This was going to be a long day. It had barely started and she was already more tired than she usually was before going to bed and now, she would need to stay after school on top of that! And Principal Baelish… Sansa shuddered at the thought of having to spend time with the man. At least in detention, she wouldn't be alone with him. _I'm being mean,_ Sansa scolded herself. Mr. Baelish was a childhood friend of her mother and he had never been nothing but kind to her. Yet that was exactly what was bothering her in fact. He always gave her far more attention and importance than she was comfortable with. There was just something… something off about him which Sansa couldn't put her finger on.

As Mrs. Mordane resumed her lecture about adverbs, Sansa heard a snigger coming from behind her. She didn't have to turn around to know who this was.

"Little miss perfect is late. Not so perfect after all," Joffrey whispered from his place behind her.

Laughter were heard after that, no doubt his cronies on each side of him.

While Sansa tried to ignore them, there was no stopping the way her throat contracted painfully, same as it always did when she was just about to cry. Hearing Joffrey mock her like that was so hurtful! They had been an item just over a week ago and she had believed him to be her prince charming, that he loved her... In hindsight, Sansa had to admit that even when they'd still been dating, he had not always been so nice with her, yet she had supposed it was normal that he teased her, something any regular boyfriend did to his girlfriend from time to time.

"Spent all night crying, have you? _Boohoo! I'm not with Joffrey anymore_ ," Boros murmured, taking a high-pitched voice that was meant to sound like hers.

"Stop it!" Sansa retorted. Without thinking, she jerked her head back to shoot them a reproachful look.

"Gosh, look at her! Not as pretty as she used to be. So glad I dumped her," Joffrey spat with a disgusted air on his face.

More sniggers were heard and Sansa's eyes were starting to burn with unshed tears. Embarrassed, she swiftly turned back her head before they could see her tear up.

"Joffrey, Borros, hush now, or I'll give your name to Mr. Baelish for his detention as well. You heard me?" Mrs. Mordane warned them sternly.

"Yes, Mrs. Mordane," they each replied in turn, as nonchalantly as they could get away with without putting themselves into more trouble.

Thankfully for Sansa, Joffrey and his pals left her alone for the remaining of the English class. Nevertheless, sitting so close to them with her back turned was incredibly nerve-racking. What if they threw something in her hair? She'd seen them do it to some other girls in the past, though at the time, she had kept her disapproval to herself. Displeasing her boyfriend had always been the last thing she wanted, and she sort of regretted her inaction now. Every now and then, she could hear them whisper and the sniggers that followed were not only those of Joffrey and his friends. No doubt they were making fun of her and the fact that they were involving other students made it all the worse. Would she soon become the school's new laughing stock thanks to Joffrey? There was no way she be truly attentive to what Mrs. Mordane said in these conditions. Today was an utter waste of time!

When the bell announcing the end of the first class finally rang, Sansa had already stored her notebook in her backpack and gathered her trench coat in her arms. She all but ran out of the classroom, fearing that she might be followed by Joffrey, Boros and Meryn, yet as she exited and she saw Margaery waiting in the hallway, she knew she was okay. Joffrey probably didn't want his new girlfriend to see just how much of a jerk he truly was and he had sort of behaved so far when she was by his side.

That didn't make the encounter any less awkward - for Sansa at least. As for Margaery, she didn't seem bothered by her presence in any way to be honest. From the instant she noticed her, she smiled kindly at her and Sansa did her best to do the same before scurrying away from her. The last thing she wanted was to struck up a conversation with her ex-friend. Not only did she feel betrayed and wounded by her callousness in seducing Joffrey while hey were still together, but on top of that, she didn't want her to find out about her newfound power. Having Skill herself, Margaery would sense the change in her if they were to find themselves in close distance. For the moment, Sansa preferred not to have to make up some story of how she had suddenly blossomed. As for Joffrey, he was so flat, he would never know. She didn't need to worry about him, for that at least.

Sansa's other morning class went by uneventfully, but she was so tired, she struggled to keep her eyes opened. It didn't help that, as Arya had taught her, she tapped a bit of power in her shield at the beginning of it. She had to do it every few hours, even during daytime, or else her shield wouldn't hold up. It would be more power-consuming to build a new one every night than to just maintain this one, nevertheless the process of sustaining it was tiring. Afterwards, she always felt just as dizzy and feeble as after having had a blood sample taken from her.

Sansa was distracted, her mind kept turning with thoughts of Joffrey and of how awful he was with her, of the Hound and of the way she had kept him away for the last couple of days, of the web of lies she had entangled herself in… Opening her palm, she gazed at the ugly scar she had given herself to call forth the Hound. _Will he be mad at me when we next see each other?_ Sansa knew the answer; she had felt his rage in the dead of night for a brief instant yesterday and the notion was bloodcurdling. For all of that, she was just as anxious when she imagined her parents' reaction to learning about her Evocation. But the worse in it all was that, whatever she did, there would be no escaping either: she would need to face the music eventually where both options were concerned!

At lunchtime, Sansa ate her sandwich with not an ounce of appetite, which was surprising seeing that she had had no time for breakfast. Podrick and Jeyne commented on how tired she seemed and both blamed Joffrey and his bullying for her poor state. Sansa didn't contradict them; it was not as if Joffrey's actions were not preoccupying enough to cause her bouts of insomnia. Telling them the whole truth about her sleepless nights was totally out of the question of course. And anyway, even if she had, they'd never have believed her and would simply think she was losing her mind. Regular skilless mortals were totally unaware that magic even existed and the great witch families of the world had every intention of keeping it that way, forever if possible. Anything that had to do with magic couldn't be disclosed to people of normal blood - that was one of her people's laws.

Jeyne and Podrick did notice the cut in her palm, but Sansa proceeded to tell them the story of how she was emptying the dishwasher on Friday evening and accidently grabbed a kitchen knife by its blade. Both winced in pain at the thought of it and swore to inform their parents of the dangers they faced when doing the dishes. Sansa was the living proof it was probably best if the chore was left to others with more experience.

The remaining of the day went by very slowly and started with one more ordeal for Sansa. Indeed, to her distress, her math teacher announced seconds after the bell had rang that the class would begin with a test, a test she had completely forgotten about! It proved to be very arduous and she was extremely worried when she was forced to hand her copy to the teacher. Hopefully she would not fail!

Things didn't get any better after that. Her shield had to be looked after again and so Sansa reluctantly tapped what little energy she had into it. The process drained her so much that she straight out fell asleep on her desk a few minutes later. It was her math teacher who woke her up, calling her name from the front of the classroom, which was so incredibly humiliating! The gods were certainly to thank that Joffrey was not among her classmates, or else he would have rubbed it in her face till the end of times. Sansa made sure not to fall asleep for what was left of her class and she was happy when after the break, her physic teacher announced they would do a lab since having to interact and actually do something meant that her somnolence would be easier to fight. Her teammate was Podrick and she did feel guilty for how clumsy and without an ounce of initiative she was, but he did most of the work and did not complain. He was such a sweetheart.

When the last bell rang, Sansa apologised for the hundredth time to Pod for how unhelpful she had been. He understood, he assured her, and after having given him a grateful smile, she grabbed her backpack and headed to the detention room. _The day's almost over,_ she told herself in near glee. Only another half-hour and she would head back home and take a most needed nap. Feeling already better just at the prospect, Sansa turned the last corner of the hallway that led to the detention room, yet her newborn good humour vanished in a heartbeat as she all of a sudden came face to face with Joffrey, Boros and Meryn. They had been waiting for her, she realised in dismay.

"Look whose arriving in advance to her detention: little miss perfect, as always," Meryn sneered, grabbing her by the arm.

Both Boros and Meryn were much sturdier than Joffrey and they always did his dirty work, for some reason. Sansa had never liked neither and she was starting to straight out despise them now that Joffrey had broken up with her and that they'd turned against her.

"Leave me alone!" Sansa cried out. Even as she spoke, she tried to pull her arm free, but Meryn's grip was too strong.

"She was not so perfect as a girlfriend though. So fucking prude," Joffrey commented, gazing at her with disdain.

"I bet she wants to wait until she marries to lose her virginity, or perhaps she wants to become a septa?" Meryn said.

Joffrey sniggered. "I could see that happening! She'll never get on her knees for any man, so she might as well do it for the gods."

All three boys laughed at that.

"Let me go!" Sansa pleaded, her eyes prickling.

Using all of her strength, she tried to free herself from Meryn's grasp, but her attempt proved vain. Worse, even as she did, Borros slid his hand behind her backpack, grabbed the back of her bra through her blouse and pulled at it hard until it snapped against her skin.

Sansa yelped, feeling her face grow red and burning in shame. Tears were gathering in her eyes now, but she had to fight the urge to weep she had. Breaking in tears before Joffrey and his cronies would please them far too much.

"What's happening here," came a familiar voice.

With that, everyone froze in place and turned to see their principal, Mr. Baelish, gazing at them through narrowed eyes.

"Boros, Joffrey, Meryn: in the detention room. I'll be keeping you as well for harassing Miss Stark," he informed them severely.

"But, Mr. Baelish, we were just talking to her! Tell him, Sansa! Nothing happened," Joffrey insisted, glaring at Sansa.

"I won't have you intimidate Miss Stark like that. You think you're fooling me? I saw what happened. If you don't get inside at once, I'll keep the three of you in detention tomorrow as well, understood? Inside now!" Mr. Baelish ordered, pointing at the detention room's door.

The three boys obeyed, though they were obviously pissed, and Sansa didn't miss the look of reproach Joffrey sent her before he entered, as if this was all her fault somehow!

"Sansa, sweetling, are you all right?" Mr. Baelish whispered once they were alone.

While she fought against it, Sansa couldn't hold back her tears anymore. Abashed, she hid her face in her palms, her body shaking with repressed sobs.

"My poor sweetling. Get in my office, I have some tissues," he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. The principal's office was right next to the detention room and he guided her inside.

Sansa did as he bade, still she couldn't help but be a bit nervous. Being alone in closed quarters with Mr. Baelish always made her uncomfortable, yet today, a part of her was also relieved to get a chance to hide while her outburst passed.

Once they were inside, Mr. Baelish shut the door behind him and fetched a couple of tissues for her.

"Here, sweetling," he said softly. "You shouldn't cry for Joffrey; he's not worth it. You were always far too good for him."

"Thank you, Mr. Baelish," Sansa said, drying her face. She blew her nose as daintily as she could and threw the used tissues in the garbage can.

"Petyr," he told her. "When there's no other students, call me by my first name. We're almost family, aren't we?" With that, he smiled at her, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Biting at her lip, Sansa nodded hesitantly. Mr. Baelish had indeed been her mother's neighbour as they both grew up and he had remained close to the Tullies, especially to her aunt Lysa. He was of a witch family too and the thought of it suddenly put Sansa on edge, for good reasons, she realised as he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Sansa… What… there's something… something different about you. Have you…?"

 _Oh, gods, no,_ Sansa thought, unwittingly hiding her scarred hand against her chest. The last thing she wanted right now was to have to explain herself and lie to Mr. Baelish, yet there was no way out of this. For a man, he was especially sensitive to magic. Her newfound Skill was not something she could hide from him.

"Sansa… it has finally happened, haven't it? You've become a witch!" he breathed in amazement. His eyes boring into hers, he closed in the gap between them until he was way too near for Sansa's comfort.

"I have," Sansa replied, backing away from him as much as she could without being rude. "It… it happened this week-end."

"This is so wonderful, Sansa!" Mr. Baelish said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

Glancing at it uneasily, Sansa forced herself to nod and smile. Keeping eye contact with him was hard. The way he looked at her, it was so strange, not like a teacher or principal ought to gaze at a student.

"If ever you need any help, just ask me. I don't cast spells myself of course, being _only_ male, but I know the theory of magic better than anyone. I can sense a lot, more than most, but I was almost an adult before I developed to me full potential. In that, we're very alike, sweetling. We have much in common - I think you would profit a lot from my knowledge and help."

With that, Mr. Baelish caressed her cheek with his knuckles and Sansa flinched slightly, a shiver going down her spine. _This is not appropriate,_ she thought, her pulse resounding in her ears. She often wished she could share that bad feeling she had about him with someone who could counsel her about it and tell her if she was right or wrong in her concern, yet as Mr. Baelish was a family friend and her school's principal, she wasn't sure to whom she could turn to. Besides, what if she was wrong? She couldn't risk ruining his reputation for what was probably nothing - that would be really horrible of her!

"Thank you so much. Yes, I'll be sure to ask if ever I need advices or anything," Sansa said out of politeness, averting her gaze. "I… maybe I should rejoin the others in the detention room now?"

"Oh, sweetling, you don't have to go. It's the first time you're late in four years and I can see that that new power of yours is wearing you out. Go rest."

While the offer was tempting, Sansa knew it would be wiser to refuse. "Oh, no, I'd rather stay. What would the other students think? I don't want them to believe I get special treatment."

"Hmm, smart girl. You're right of course," Mr. Baelish agreed. Then he contemplated her pensively for a moment and added: "If you need to talk, about Joffrey, your new Skill or anything else, my door is always open. You know that?"

"Of course. Thank you, Mr. Baelish," Sansa replied with a stiff smile.

"Petyr," he corrected, frowning.

"Petyr," Sansa repeated reluctantly. She couldn't wait to be out of here and figured it was best that she humoured him.

The smile he gave her was wider, but once again didn't seem sincere at all, still he opened the door for Sansa and she scurried out of his office at once.

As she entered the detention room, Sansa was very careful not to look at Joffrey or his pals for fear that they noticed her swollen, red eyes and made fun of her later on. She sat in the first row as far, as she could from them, and was relieved when they didn't follow her once detention was over.

When Sansa arrived back home a little after 4pm, she headed straight to her room with the intent of taking a nap. First though, she had to, _once again,_ tap some strength into her shield. Sansa groaned; she had had enough of constantly weakening herself like that – it didn't feel natural to do so when she was already so worn out. Holding up a shield at all time was demanding work and did not allow time for her power to regenerate fully. She couldn't keep this up for very long, that was a given…

After having sacrificed what little drops of strength she had to spare, Sansa was so exhausted, she fell into deep, dreamless slumber from the moment her head touched her pillow. She probably would have slept through the evening and night, or so she believed as she bitterly sat up in her bed, if not for her mother waking her a couple of hours later.

"Darling, dinner is ready. You should eat something. It will give you strength just as much as sleep. I won't have you waste away as so many girls do as they start blossoming. Wielding all that new power takes calories, just as exercise does. Your body needs food."

Too fatigued to argue, Sansa nodded and groggily followed her downstairs. She ate her pork chop with rice and vegetables with a total lack of appetite, her eyes still only half open. Around her, her little brothers were restlessly chatting with Arya and her parents, but as for Sansa, she remained silent and barely listened to what they said. On a few occasions, her sister sent her a worried glance, one that said she was well aware of the struggle she was going through and not looking forward to the inevitable conclusion of it.

As for mum and dad, they kept gazing at her with a benevolent air upon their face, happy and proud, and Sansa felt like the most contemptible person ever for leading them on like that. She was the worst daughter _ever_.

When she was done eating, Sansa took a long and very warm shower and then, headed to her room. She tried to study, but it was a total waste of time. In the end, she stored her books back in her backpack, turned off the light and took place in bed. She still badly needed to rest, yet for all of that, sleep evaded her. She was too troubled, kept thinking of her day, of how horrible it had been. Joffrey mocking her, Mr. Baelish being… being weird. _I hope that he won't insist that I spend more time with him, so that he teaches me things…_ Sansa shuddered at the thought of it. It was hard to refuse such an offer without coming off as rude. She wasn't sure if she could do it… She was nice to a fault, Arya often told her.

Sansa also agonised over her parents. They were so happy for her and bound for the hugest disappointment of their lives when they learned of the despicable origins of her power. For how long could she keep the truth from them? _Not much,_ she mused, gazing out of her window. It was fully dark outside now, dark enough for _him_. Though it was very faint, she realised in sudden dread that she could sense him and smell the slightest hint of his psychic scent. Once more, Sansa fancied she could feel his anger. She knew the Hound would be mad at her for keeping him away and, being totally inexperienced with demons, she had no clue of what to expect his reaction would be when she finally allowed him to take form.

 _My shield is getting too flimsy,_ Sansa mused, shutting her eyes in despair. She knew she ought to reinforce it, yet she wasn't even sure she could do it safely anymore. She didn't have enough strength left, would risk using some of her vial energy if she so much as tapped a few drops of power into it.

It would be so easy to just let it go and perhaps it would be for the best indeed. It wasn't as if having to face the Hound eventually was avoidable in any way and Sansa's parents would need to learn the truth sooner or later. She could wait an additional day or two, but the end result would be the same, only with the Hound being madder and her growing exhausted to the point of risking her health.

Besides the truth was, a part of Sansa also craved the power she could gain from giving herself to the Hound. Feeling pure strength flow through her veins had been ecstatic. She wanted more of it, especially now that she was so weak. It would bring her back to life, would give her the courage she needed to face another horrific school day tomorrow.

As if the Hound could read her mind from wherever he was, warmth suddenly began spreading down Sansa's lower belly. It was very subtle, but she recognised the same spell he had repeatedly cast on her on the night she called him forth from the Seven Hells. Was he trying to tempt her? Shutting her eyes, Sansa moaned softly as she remembered the pleasure his touch had woken in her. Gods, but it had been so good…

If the Hound was able to reach her with a spell, that had to mean her shield had thinned dangerously, so much so that it might very well break at any moment if she's didn't do something about it quickly. She ought to infuse what little strength she still had left in it, she knew it, yet she had had enough of emptying her well for the benefit of something that would been vain in the end anyway. This had lasted long enough.

 _Screw it,_ Sansa thought, breathing out a deep, shaking sigh. _I don't want to fight anymore._

With that she released the hold she still had on her shield and waited anxiously to see what would happen. She expected an explosion of fire, flames as high as the ceiling to lick her walls and turn her furniture to dust, yet her room remained as dark as tar.

"Little bird," a harsh whisper came from nowhere. "Little bird, you shouldn't have done that."

Then, in a split second, the Hound's alien psychic scent grew overwhelming, as thick as steam and taking up the whole space of her room. Sansa let out a cry as he appeared just in front of her, standing before her bed. In the darkness, all she could distinguish was the shape of him: his tall horns, his bat-like wings closed behind his back, his tremendously muscled frame…

"You've been very cruel with me, have kept me away. Left me to rot in the Void…" he rasped menacingly. His strange animalistic eyes were blazing and narrowed at her in resentment. They were all she could clearly see of him and she stared at them with wide, terrified eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Sansa murmured. Her whole body shivering in fear, she sat up in her bed and pulled her comforter higher over her. "It's just that… that…"

In that same instant, screams were heard coming from downstairs, followed by the sound of people running.

"What's that?" the Hound asked gruffly, glancing behind himself in annoyance.

The loud banging steps of people running up the stairs were resounding in the house. "Sansa! Sansa!" both of her parents were yelling, the fear in their voices breaking her heart.

"My parents," Sansa squeaked. "They don't know I have summoned you."

The door handle began turning and Sansa's body grew as tense as a guitar string. This was well and truly a catastrophe, a catastrophe that was entirely her fault! Yet before her parents could push the door open, the Hound lifted an arm in the air and opened his hand. A burst of energy flew from his palm and hit the door before swirling around them at the speed of light until it had surrounded them entirely. He has shielded the entire room, Sansa realised. Suddenly, absolute silence reigned and not a sound was heard apart from the hammering of her pulse in her ears.

"I won't have us interrupted," the Hound said, returning his blazing beast-like eyes on her. "We have some catching up to do."


	6. Chapter 6

Another chapter! I hope you enjoy. Please be kind enough to let me know if you do. :)

* * *

His blazing stare pinned on Sansa, the Hound was standing in front of her bed. For a few interminable seconds, he studied her in silence, his horned head tilted to the side and features twisted menacingly. Sansa was so afraid: she had no idea of what a wrathful devil might be capable of and she found herself literally petrified in place. Still, for all of that, the thought of her parents was preoccupying her just as much as her present predicament. What could they be doing just now? Her room was so quiet; it might as well have been floating in emptiness for as much as silence was complete, however, Sansa knew it to be false. At this very moment mere metres from her, her mother and father were almost certainly screaming in horror and attempting to break through the Hound's shield. Would they succeed? Somehow, she doubted it. The spell he had cast was strong and his magic unlike that of the witches of her family's congregation. It seemed incredibly ancient, old to the point of crudeness in fact, yet in spite of it, indecipherable and tremendously powerful.

"You did not answer" the Hound rasped eventually. "Why did you keep me away like that? Did I not hold my end of our little bargain and give you the power you craved?" he asked, his voice calm and yet as sharp as a blade. There was something ominous about his restraint, a knowledge that it could only get worse from here and Sansa's frame stiffened even more. "In exchange, you were to open those pretty white legs of yours for me _every fucking night_ ," he resumed more heatedly, taking a step towards the bed. His movements were fluid, like those of a panther and his blazing eyes shone in the dimness of the room in the same fashion as the beast's. "You can't feed a famished dog only to leave him to starve again afterwards. He'll turn crazy and bark at your door till the end of times if you don't sate his hunger again. Is that what you wanted, to test me, huh?"

"No! It was not like that at all! Please…. please don't be mad at me," Sansa begged him, her voice breaking.

The Hound's scold deepened at hearing her plea and something akin to confusion passed in his strange eyes. "What was it then? Tell me."

Tears were filling her eyes now, but Sansa forced herself to answer for fear that she angered him even more. "I… I just didn't want my parents to learn about… about _you_. I didn't have the courage to tell them so soon… all I wanted was a bit of time."

The demon snorted and shook his head. "Well they know now, don't they, so what did you win by shielding yourself from me for so fucking long? Nothing. And you made me suffer for that: _nothing_." With that, he gritted his teeth and let out a long, shaky breath. There was resentment in his eyes, resentment mixed in with pain. For a brief instant, he even seemed to suffer at the simple memory of those two days she had kept him away and Sansa was surprised by the guilt the sight awoke in he. _He's a demon!_ she reminded herself. There was no knowing the horrific crimes he had committed in his life to deserve such punishment in his death, yet Sansa was too kind-hearted to stomach witnessing anyone suffer by her fault, even a demon.

"Two nights you kept me away. _Two bloody nights,_ "the Hound muttered, his blazing stare fixed on her. "After all those centuries of rotting in the Seven Hells, it really should've been nothing, yet naught has ever seemed so long…"

"Please forgive me," Sansa implored him, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "I… I wouldn't have done it if I had known this would be so hard on you."

"But you knew I was displeased. We are bounded; don't pretend like you didn't sense it," he reproached.

He was right, there was no point in lying. "I'm sorry," she breathed instead. "It won't happen again, I swear it. I'll make it up to you, will do whatever you ask…"

A spark passed through his eyes. "Really? Whatever I ask?" he repeated slowly. His gaze travelled over her body even as a roguish grin split his face and with that, Sansa all of a sudden regretted her words. His demeanour announced nothing good.

And indeed, the Hound didn't lose an instant after that. Bending over, he grabbed a handful of her comforter and pulled it off of her, before throwing it to the floor. The pink nightgown Sansa was wearing was thin and she shivered at the contact of the room' cold air against her skin.

"First, no more clothes," the Hound started, climbing over the end of the mattress. The old wooden bed frame groaned in complaint under his no doubt impressive weight and Sansa tensed as he approached her. "That shift needs to be gone." Leaning over her, he seized each side of her nightgown and yanked at it in opposite directions hard enough that it tore in one clean rip.

Though she had seen it coming, Sansa yelped in surprise. This was probably something she would have to get used to. Still, the thought that he might ruin each of her nighties like that was nonetheless sort of discouraging.

"You know what it is that I want, of course. There's nothing complicated about it," the Hound started. Lowering himself over her, he propped an arm by the side of her head, his brawny body touching her in places. "I want to fuck you long and hard. I want you to moan so much you have no voice left come morning. And I want it every night."

As he spoke, the scent of metal began spreading in the air and warmth gathered down Sansa's lower belly. She squirmed, feeling his nearly burning hot skin brush against hers. There was a bulge in his breeches, a hardness pressing against her, and the feel of it was somehow just as frightening as it was enticing.

"Also, no more bloody secrets," the Hound hissed, lifting a hand to pinch her chin and force her to look at him.

His claws stung a little, they were long and dagger-sharp, and Sansa raised her gaze at once, not daring to risk displeasing him more than she already had. As if it didn't hammer fast enough, her heartbeat hastened as she met his stare. His eyes were so piercing, same as if he could read right through her, like she was an open book to him.

"Our bound is not to be hidden from people sharing your roof. Seen what trying to keep your family from learning about me has brought you? You're so bloody weak, just on the verge of losing what I have given you altogether. At least now, they know. There'll be no coming back, you realise that now, don't you, little bird?"

Sansa nodded, feeling very nervous even as her loins kept pulsing with the spell the demon had cast. It was an odd thing to be aroused and terrified at the same time. There was something just as threatening as intimate about the Hound's position over her, about his touch on her cheek. In this proximity, she could see the desolation that was left of the left side of his face in minute details. His scars were not only hideous, but painful to behold for someone as empathic as Sansa. It must have hurt so much… she wondered how he had gotten them. Were they from the time he spent in those furnaces of the Seven Hells which were said to eternally consume thousands of demons at a time with their everlasting flames? But then if it was the case, why was his entire body not burned?

"You need me now, don't you? I gifted you power stronger than you could have ever dreamed of, yet the first thing you do with it is build a fucking shied. A shield to block me: the very devil you got your Skill from! Ah, not very smart when you think about it. You don't bite the hand that feeds you, but I can see you've learned from your mistake. This whole process has drained you so much, you're literally wasting away. You won't block me again, won't you?"

Sansa shook her head. "I won't."

His mouth pulling in a faint smile, the Hound caressed her cheek with his knuckles. "Promise it."

She shivered against him and bit at her lip. "I promise I won't block you again," Sansa whispered. Suddenly, she was very conscious of the way their bodies touched a little more with each breath she took, of just how heavy and hot he was.

"Now that's the good little witch I know," the demon said with satisfaction. He grinned, just long enough for moonlight to reflect on his teeth, and then pressed his lips on hers.

Instinctively, Sansa flinched, a shudder going down her spine. There was no taking her distances from the Hound though, for he only kissed her harder and slid his tongue in her mouth. His huge hand travelled down her stomach and found her folds, parting her lower lips and stroking her there.

His touch on her was good from the start, however there was no way she let go and enjoyed it truly. The fiend's intense animalistic bodily smell and even stronger psychic scent were reminding her too much of all the things that had repelled her in him from the first instant she set eyes on him: that he was more beast then human, that his very presence among the living was an abomination. Same as on the night of Sansa's Evocation, there was a dichotomy between her mind's perception of the situation and the reactions of her body to the things he did to her. She felt lost, didn't know what think or do…

"Stop fighting," the Hound murmured against her lips. "A part of you is still resisting me. You shouldn't. I'm here to give you what you want: _power and pleasure_. I'm naught but your servant… remember that, little mistress."

Lowering his head down to her breasts, he took one of stiff nipple in his mouth. Sansa moaned and in that same instant, the Hound plunged a long finger in her. Slowly but surely, the coppery odour that floated in the air grew stronger and Sansa soon started to buck her hips against his hand even as he repetitively penetrated her with first one, then two fingers.

"Hmmm," the Hound breathed roughly. "Yes, that's better already." With his thumb, he began tracing circles over her clit and Sansa's groans became more languorous and loud.

The sensations of his hungry lips and tongue on her breasts coupled with that of his restless fingers and thumb were simply exquisite and Sansa was in no time writhing under him and whimpering like the most wanton woman she could ever have imagined. Her own behaviour was making her blush, but once more, there was no controlling those urges the demon roused in her.

"You want me to fuck you now, don't you?" the Hound asked her against her now completely wet boobs. "Last time, I made you cry in ecstasy, over and over again. You loved it. No matter how troubled you were, I know you loved it. And you want more of it, don't you?"

Her eyes half shut, Sansa breathed in deeply and nodded. "Yes… yes, please…" she admitted. His fingers were still working on her and she was so near her climax, she could almost taste it.

The Hound's eyes darkened all the more at hearing her beg so nicely. "Seven Hells, but you're going to get it tonight, little bird. And it's going to do you some good. By the time I'm done with you, your well will be full to the brim with power, you'll see. And that pretty little cunt of yours, full to the brim with my seed." He laughed, a very strange and hoarse sound.

Squirming under him, Sansa was humming softly and barely listening to what the demon said. Her lips were mouthing the words of a silent payer, one she did not dare utter aloud. _Don't stop, don't stop…_ she repeated to herself even as waves of bliss coursed through her.

"You're so soaked, I could just impale you with my cock in one single thrust right then and there, but I have another, better idea first."

As he spoke, the demon removed his hand from between her legs and Sansa all but sobbed at the brutal withdrawal. She let out a long, pathetic lament and squeezed her thighs together, tears welling in her eyes.

Showing no pity for her anguish, the Hound only sniggered and stood to his knees. "Hush, little bird, no need to weep. Or will I need to silence you? I know just the way."

He was naked, though Sansa was sure she had felt the fabric of his woolen breeches against her just moments before. Without missing a beat, the Hound moved forward - his enormous, charcoal-black dick stiff as a steel bar and standing straight before him - and the next thing she knew, he had straddled her neck and was sliding it between her slightly open lips.

Despite the effect of surprise, Sansa found herself sucking at it greedily from the moment it touched her tongue. But it was so very big! Even taking half of it in her mouth was an accomplishment. As for the Hound, he was giving her no rest and continuously came and went between her lips, thankfully with less vigour than he had when screwed her on Friday night. Still, this was too intense for Sansa and she feared that she might choke if he kept at it.

For all of that, she was incredibly aroused and was sucking at his dick with more thirst than she could ever have imagined. She could literally feel herself dripping down her thighs. There was something about the taste of him that got her off, about the feel of such a massive member filling her mouth so thoroughly that drove her crazy with lust. She wondered what his seed tasted like, if he would come in her mouth tonight…

"A fast learner, aren't you?" the Hound commented lowly in-between two pants. With both of his hands, he was holding her head and guiding his motion in her mouth, his fingers stroking her hair gently as he did. "The Seven be damned, you're making me so bloody hard… I need to feel your tight little cunt around me. You could mount me, what do you say?"

With his penis all but gagging her, Sansa could hardly speak, but she moaned and nodded as best she could. She was in dire need of some stimulation; her folds were pulsing like a second heartbeat to the point of being painful. She longed for his touch, for him inside of her, more than she even did breathing.

Obviously satisfied with her response, the Hound removed his shaft from her mouth at once. A loud pop was heard as he did and Sansa gasped, breathing in deeply several times afterwards.

"Come over here," the demon bade her. Spreading his wings wide so as not to crush them, he laid down on his back and pulled her over him.

Sansa's crotch landed right over his erect member and she moaned as she came in contact with his hardened, nearly burning hot member. Without thinking, she rolled her hips against him, shivering in delight at the intoxicating sensation it triggered.

"Hmm, look at you, Sansa," he rasped, grinning at her. "I like you like that. Like a little bitch in heat."

As he spoke, his spell became even stronger and Sansa rocked her pelvis with more vigour. She wanted to come so bad, didn't know what to do with herself.

"Calm down now, you horny little witch, and take me in you." Closing a huge paw around her waist, he lifted her and placed his penis at her entrance. Though he was undeniably very large, she slid down around him in one fluid movement. Moaning deeply, Sansa threw her head back even as stars filled her sight.

The Hound seemed to enjoy it as well, for he grunted and dig his clawed fingers in her hips. For a few long seconds, they stayed like that, barely moving and only relishing in the feeling of being connected.

Soon enough though, the demon had enough and bucked his hips, making Sansa sigh. "Come on, girl, ride me," he prompted, baring his teeth in something nearer the challenging rictus of beast than an actual smile.

Obeying, she rolled her hips against his, gazing down at the monstrous creature beneath her. He was terrifying with his grey skin, huge open bat-wings, black horns and yellowish and grey, glowing eyes. And yet for some reason, the tightness in Sansa's belly increased as she took him in. _It's the spell,_ she told herself. _Only the spell._

"Fuck, but you feel good… So fucking tight and wet," the demon breathed hoarsely. With that, he started shoving himself in her, Sansa meeting each of his thrusts eagerly.

With his hands, he caressed her waist, her ribs, grabbed both of her butt cheeks hard. Sansa loved being touched, being possessed, and she moaned as his palms ended their journey to engulf her boobs, his fingers toying with her nipples.

"I missed this, thought about fucking you while I was in the Void… Did you think about it too?"

Sansa blushed deeply. "Yes…" she admitted.

"Did you touch yourself?" He lowered a hand and found her clit with his fingers.

Sansa shook her head, letting out a groan at the delicious sensation his touch awoke in her.

"Wanted to wait for my cock, didn't you? I'm glad you did. I'll make you come so hard, you'll see… you'll thank me afterwards, I can already hear your polite little chirping…"

With that the Hound seized her hip with the hand he had had over her breasts, his other one busy stroking the apex of her folds. Guiding the pace of her movements over him, he began thrusting himself more powerfully in her. Sansa mewed and willingly let him use her as he pleased, yet this was apparently not enough for him, for the scent of metal suddenly became almost insufferably intense. Her head spinning with the overwhelming effect of the demon's spell, Sansa arched her back and rocked her pelvis frantically against him. Her moans were getting loud and desperate, her climax coming dangerously close…

"Don't resist, just let it come to you," the Hound rasped, his fingers moving in fast circles over her nub.

As if by magic, his words had an instantaneous effect on Sansa and she peaked at once, an orgasm just as insanely potent as she remembered. She cried out, shook and twisted over the Hound for what seemed to her like an eternity, savouring every single upsurge of ecstasy she was assailed with until there was not an ounce of strength left in her and she collapsed over his muscular torso.

The Hound only gave her an instant to come round and rolled her onto her back nearly just as soon. He was so immense and heavy over her, Sansa was frightened for an instant. All she could see of him was the dark outline of his horns and opened bat-like wings, his yellowish and grey glowing eyes.

"You feel better already, I can tell. Fornication did you some good. Tell me you want me to fuck you all night now, say it," he rasped, his voice alike the hiss of a snake. Even as he spoke, he resumed taking her hard.

"Yes, please, fuck me… fuck me all night…" Sansa said, meaning every word of it.

"Sandor… say my name. You didn't shy away from crying it out last time when I took you on all four like a bitch, _my little bitch_..."

Sansa remembered well enough. Would he take her again like that tonight? Gods, she could feel herself get even wetter just at the thought of it. "Sandor…" she crooned. "Sandor, fuck me."

Her plea finished him off. Growling, he pounded himself in her with everything he had until his powerful frame shook against her. When he was done and panting and cursing, he leaned most of his weight into the mattress by her side and stayed over her without pulling out.

"Still hard as a rock," the Hound said after what had appeared to Sansa like a long moment of quietness. Propping himself on his forearm, he withdrew his dick halfway out of Sansa, looking down at his shinny with moisture erect shaft. "What am I to do with this?" he asked, shooting her a sly, somewhat predatory look.

Then he was screwing her again just as energetically. Both of their sexes were slick with their combined fluids and their relentless comings and goings were emitting all sorts of wet noises which might have mortified Sansa had she not been so engrossed in the present moment. In a way, the baseness of it even aroused her and soon, she was coming a second time, the Hound following her shortly after.

They took a break after that and laid peacefully over Sansa's bed. Given the Hound's abnormally warm skin, there was no need for blankets and she stayed snuggled against him, her head leaned over his shoulder. At first, she kept her eyes shut and thought of nothing. Yet as he demon's spell faded away, as she slowly caught her breath and as her heartbeat gradually slowed down to its normal pace, she suddenly grew tense, remembering her parents and the state of terror she had left them in. _Oh, by the Seven,_ Sansa mused, her eyes popping open at once.

"Calm down, little bird. Don't let it consume you. They'll learn to live with us, even to accept it eventually."

"What… what are you talking about?" Sansa whispered, unsettled.

"Your parents. Our bound is something they'll need to accept."

"How did you know I was thinking about them?" she asked. In one swift movement, she shifted against him and jerked her head back so that she could meet his gaze.

"We're linked. I can read you. I can sense what you feel," he rasped slowly.

"Really?" Sansa demanded uneasily, his animalistic eyes all but hypnotising her as she gazed into them. His pupils were black and oblong, his irises grey and shining like molten sliver.

"Yes. You're getting stronger. My seed did you some good, but your well is not full yet. You'll need more."

Sansa frowned. So her stupid sister was right: he had magic jizz indeed. She grimaced. For some reason, the thought of it discouraged her.

"You're troubled for other reasons too," the Hound added, lifting a hand to caress her hair. "There are other people bothering you, disturbing your peace."

"Can you read my mind?" she asked, praying the Seven he could not.

"Not read it, but I can get a sense of what you feel. The stronger your emotions, the more I'll sense them. You were quite emotional today. I could feel it even from the Void. What happened?"

"I have… trouble with some people at school," she told him, her throat tightening at the simple memory of it. "But the Void? You mentioned this on a few occasions. What is it?"

"It's a place just at the edge of what you mortals think of as 'reality'. There's nothing there, no sound, no colour or light. You just wait, but nothing ever happens. It's almost as if you didn't exist."

"What were you doing there? Didn't you go back to the Seven Hells?"

The demon snorted roughly, his features hardening. "Of course not. Did you see any fire when I arrived?"

"No," Sansa whispered, sheepish. He was right; she had expected her room to catch aflame like on Friday night, yet no fire had come this time around.

"I told you I was not going down there ever again, didn't I?" he snarled at her, the very suggestion of it incensing him. "Had enough of all that bloody fire. Besides, who's to say these cuffs would not get chained again from the instant I'd step foot in he damned place? No sense in risking it. No, I'd rather die of boredom in the Void than ever having to go back."

Cowered, Sansa remained silent for some time, yet her curiosity eventually got the better of her. "Is it really as horrible as the septons say?" she asked in a quiet murmur.

"Even worse. There's just fire there - fire, pain and despair. When a witch does an Evocation ceremony, thousands upon thousands of demons fight for a chance to be set free. And to get laid."

"Did you have to fight to rejoin me?"

"Course I had. From the moment I caught a whiff of that sweet psychic scent of yours, I knew you were mine. None of those buggers held a chance." Pulling her over him, he nuzzled at her neck and cupped her bottom in his large palms. "Enough of that now. There are things you need to tell me and don't try to change the subject this time around," he added. Lying his head back down on the pillow underneath, he pushed back Sansa over him just enough to lock gaze with her. "Who are they, those who bother you? We'll need to find a way to avenge you…"

"Avenge me? On, no! This sounds awful!"

"Who are they?" the Hound insisted, narrowing his blazing eyes at her.

"Just some stupid boys I go to school with. One of them I used to date," Sansa admitted, oddly embarrassed.

"To date?" he asked, arching his one good eyebrow.

"It means that he was my boyfriend. We were… what? In love? Well at least, I thought he loved me. I now think he never did. He's a jerk."

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing of importance, I guess. He called me names, mocked me, bullied me…" Sansa's eyes filled with tears at the memory of it.

The Hound's face twisted in anger. "It's not nothing if it makes you cry. I sensed your distress today, can still feel it right fucking now. There's no reason you should suffer for anyone. Those boys should be on their hands and knees for you. Let's make it so, what do you say? With all of that new power I gave you, why shouldn't you cast a spell on them so that they start worshiping you as they ought to?" He barked a rough laugh, his lips curving in a something in between a sneer and a grin. "I can already see the scene it would make: each of them wooing you and you, rejecting the buggers one at a time. In public of course, so that they be humiliated as they should. Would that make you feel better?"

"Not at all! I want them as far as possible, not at my heels!" Sansa told him, appalled by his suggestion.

"Keeping them away with a spell shouldn't be very complicated, but you need to humiliate them too, otherwise they'll be getting off too lightly. We should force them to do something so fucking ludicrous, it'll follow them till the day they die, like walk on all four before your school comrades, tear they clothes off and run naked, eat dog poop…"

"Oh, no! I would _never_ do any of that!" Sansa exclaimed in horror, her hands stiffening over his muscled chest. "Casting spells on others without their consent, this is a crime! It's been such a taboo for so long among the great witch families that no one knows how to do it anymore."

" _I_ know how to do it. I would cast it for you if I was not stuck in that twice blasted Void during the day. But I could teach you. It's easy."

Her brow knitted, Sansa shook her head. "Please don't! It's against witch law and so, so wrong! This is not something I would ever want to learn!"

The demon snorted in disdain. "Against the law. That's a fucking load of rubbish if you ask me. What the fuck is that even supposed to mean? Laws have no meaning, no true substance or reason to be. They've been created by men and men is one hell of an inane creature. Who's to decide what's right or wrong, what's good or evil? And what the fuck is evil even supposed to mean? This world makes not an ounce of sense and men laws are no bloody different. Bugger it all! You know what I think? Life's too short to worry about such bullshit. While you're alive, you might as well make the most of it and think of yourself first and foremost. I say you cast a spell on those buggering arse holes so that they pay as they ought to. It'll be their own bloody fault anyway. They've went looking for it, deserve it."

Sansa was shaking her head violently now and she would have rolled off of him if not for the Hound's clawed fingers digging painfully into her waist and keeping her in place. "No! That I won't do! I… I just can't! I don't want to break such an important rule to my people! It's not something I could ever do."

"But why?" he asked, clearly frustrated by her objection.

"I just couldn't live with myself afterwards. The guilt would literally kill me! Please leave it. I beg you…"

His nostrils flaring, the demon gritted his teeth and scowled "They need to pay. No one mocks my little mistress, no one makes her cry."

With that, he flipped her on her back and entered her at once. Sansa had not noticed he was hard and she gasped as she felt his swollen member make its way in her. They resumed having sex just as wildly as they had before and didn't halt for more than a few minutes at a time for the remaining of the night. The Hound cast plenty of spells on her, demonstrating just how much he didn't give a shit about her people's law. But he was not of her people. He was a demon and demons did as they pleased, apparently. Being dead, it was not as if they had anything to lose. For all of that, he didn't try to convince her to learn how to bewitch others again and Sansa was grateful for it. In fact, they didn't so much as exchange a single word that didn't have to do with their coupling until daybreak. The Hound took her many, many times and gave her four additional orgasms. By the time dawn came, Sansa was so exhausted, she barely had time to register that the Hound had vanished before she fell into deep sleep. Reality became nothing but dreamless darkness just as empty as that Void the Hound had told her about and she would have lingered many more hours in it if not for a cry abruptly awaking her.

"Sansa!" she heard.

Sansa didn't know for how long she had slept, but it didn't feel like nearly long enough. She twisted into herself, feeling sunlight on her skin. She was bruised, she realised as she shifted under the thin sheet that partially concealed her nudity, was probably covered with scratched where the Hound had clutched at her while they had sex.

"Sansa! Wake up," mum's voice ordered her. She sounded on the verge of tears and angry, so very angry.

Her eyes opening at once, Sansa rolled onto her back. The sun's glare blinded her, but as she squinted against it, she saw her mother standing in the threshold. She was disheveled, looked as if she had not slept of the night and had an expression of horror on her face. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot with dark circles under them.

"Oh, Sansa! What have you ever done?" mum demanded in a shaking voice, tears bathing her face.


	7. Chapter 7

_At long last, here is chapter 7. Sorry for the super long wait._

 _Special thanks to Athena-Noctua-Bubo for beta reading this chapter. I'm very grateful you were able to help! :D_

* * *

"This is very… very serious, Sansa," her dad repeated for at least the tenth time in just a few minutes "I don't think you realise the gravity of what you did," he said weakly.

Massaging his temples, Ned winced the way he always did when he had a headache. Sansa had seen him do it hundreds of time as he worked long hours in his office or after a particularly difficult conference call with clients, yet that she would one day be to blame for it was not something she could ever have predicted. She had always been such a good girl and taken great pride in how little trouble she caused when compared with her sister.

By his side, Mum stared unseeingly out the window, her face red and puffy. The dark green silk dressing gown she wore was crumpled and her long auburn hair uncharacteristically tangled.

All three of them sat around the kitchen table, each equally dishevelled and exhausted. Her parents had barely slept the night before and it showed. From what Arya told Sansa when they briefly crossed path earlier, their parents had not even gone to bed, only dozed off and on in the living room as they waited for sunrise to come. Bran, Rickon and Arya had all grabbed breakfast and scurried off to school as soon as they woke up, anxious to be out of the house. As for Sansa, her parents decided to keep her home for the day seeing as they judged her in no state to be seen publicly. Besides, a good talk was more than mandatory and with the house empty, they wouldn't have to fear being overheard. They could even yell if it came to that, the neighbours were far enough away not to worry they would call the cops, and they had indeed indulged themselves quite a few times already. So far, this conversation was going nowhere.

"I do realise the seriousness of what I did. I thought long and hard before I decided to go through with it," Sansa answered, her face wet with tears. Tremors were running down her body, as if she was about to be sick, and perhaps she would be. "I felt like I had no choice! It was that, or live my life being as flat as someone not of the blood. I could not bare it!" she cried out before burying her face in her hands and weeping.

"There are worse things in life than having no Skill and being bound to a demon is certainly one of them," Ned rebuked her so sternly, that Sansa flinched in her seat.

Then, in a heartbeat, his fury gave way to the deepest of misery. His shoulders dropping, he released a long, shivering sigh and glanced up at the ceiling.

"Sansa, why did you have to do this?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "You let a malefic force into your life, welcomed it in our house! He was the scum of humanity in life and now as a demon, his nature can only have worsened. There is absolutely no way of knowing what he is capable of!"

"He's… not as bad as you think," Sansa started, her voice small and pitiful. She rubbed the wetness from her face with shaking fingers. "He is… he is scary looking indeed, I won't lie about that, and I was _a little_ afraid of him at first…" she admitted, which was probably the biggest understatement. "Yet you can rest assured! I… I can tell he's very devoted to me. He won't do me any harm, nor to you, that I'm sure of."

"How can you be so sure? What do you know about demons? What do any of us know? We're clueless! Apart from the few patchy elements mentioned in that blasted grimoire, we don't know a bloody thing!" Ned spat, nodding at the old velum book, an air of disgust on his face.

At the centre of the table, the grimoire lay open to the page with the Evocation Ceremony, evidence of her crime for all to see.

"This is the ceremony you performed, Sansa?" Mum asked quietly. Gazing at it with concern, she carefully pulled it to her.

"Yes," Sansa admitted uneasily.

Every detail of the ceremony was written in black and white in the grimoire and not for the first time, she wished she had pretended she didn't know where it was when her parents confronted her about it. She shouldn't have handed it back so easily.

Her eyes shining with unshed tears, Mum read the nearly indecipherable gothic letters, the tip of her index finger lightly touching the page. "Did you cut your palm?" she demanded, a worried frown creasing her brow.

Before Sansa could speak, her mum seized her left hand and tried to open it. Sansa resisted by reflex at first, but quickly surmised it was pointless and relaxed her fingers.

"You did!" Mum exclaimed. Fat tears rolling down her cheeks, she shook her head in incomprehension. "Such a beautiful hand – scarred! It's such a pity... Oh, Sansa. To go to such extremes… I just don't understand what has gotten into you." Sobs shook her hard then and yet, even at the worse of it, no sound escaped her lips.

Dad pinched the bridge of his nose and yanked the grimoire closer to him. "So… as I understand it, you performed this whole ceremony from start to finish… You did the… ah… the _Fornication_ …" he said, his features contracting as the word left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

Biting her lip, Sansa shifted uneasily in her chair. Though she wore her dressing gown, she was still naked underneath, same as when her mother woke her up. The burning sensation between her legs served as a constant reminder of how relentlessly the Hound had taken her last night, same as the multiple bruises on her skin. Sansa knew she looked exactly like what she was: a girl who had been ran over by a ferocious, insatiable beast from dusk to dawn. There was no point in lying about this, especially seeing as no Evocation could work if a witch was not willing to offer herself to the demon she called forth.

"It's part of the whole deal. It wouldn't have worked otherwise," she whispered, lowering her eyes in shame.

As Catelyn heard her words, she let out a small sound, like a muffled sob.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sansa saw her father's hand close in a fist on the table. "Did… did he hurt you? The demon?"

"I'm fine," Sansa assured him, still not daring to meet his gaze.

"Don't lie. You're bruised all over. Covered with scratches… I saw it!" Mum pointed out, her voice raw with emotion.

"It doesn't hurt, I swear it. He didn't mean to harm me, it's just that… that with his claws…"

Exhaling loudly, Dad rubbed his hands over his face with a total lack of strength. "He has claws…" he repeated. "Claws and horns and wings. A demon! I still can't believe it. Had it not been for the stench of that bastard's psychic scent filling the house, I would have thought Arya lost her blasted mind when she told us about what you did. It's still hard for me to wrap my head around it..."

"Oh, Sansa… why, oh why did you ever have to do this?" her mum repeated the now overused reproach. "You're just sixteen, so young and beautiful, with your whole life ahead of you… And here, you've just willingly tied your existence to that of a monster. He's not even alive, Sansa! Not even worthy to be called a man…"

A new surge of tears filled Sansa's eyes, nearly blinding her. "It was that, or never be a true witch. No matter how horrible the consequences may seem to you, I don't regret it! Not even one bit!"

"You don't regret it yet, but you will, my daughter. Oh, you will," Ned retorted heatedly. He pointed an accusing finger at her, his frown deepening. "How do you think your life will go from now on, with a demon from the Seven Hells always looking over your shoulder? You think you'll manage to lead a normal existence when your nights will be spent with a fiend, doing… doing _things_ … well things I would rather not have to think about where you are concerned?"

Sansa blushed. "I don't see how it will be so bad, Dad. As I told you, the Hound would never hurt me and no one needs to know about him apart from you two and Arya. And at least, I'll have Skill and will be able to contribute to the family business. If not for that, I would've been good for _nothing_!"

"Don't say that, Sansa. Skill is not everything. Your brothers won't ever have any Skill either, same as I. It doesn't make us worthless."

While a distant part of Sansa felt awful for having inadvertently insulted her father and brothers, she was too blinded by her emotions to apologise. "But I'm female! I'm supposed to have Skill, it's not the same at all! Who would infuse appeal into our client's investments if every one of us was just as flat as me? All of the witch families' fortunes are _thanks_ to their women's Skill."

"Your mother and Arya would've been enough. Some families have no daughter and it's not one generation that ruins them. There was absolutely no need for you to do something so drastic."

"But I really want to contribute! I have always felt like such a failure, as if I had let everyone down."

"No one ever blamed you for it. It was never your fault!" Mum assured her.

Like most witch families, the Starks' wealth was in all appearances perfectly legitimate and to some extent, it truly was. The family had operated _Stark's Investments,_ a venture capital firm, for many generations with a lot of success. Dad, his father before him, his grandfather, his great grandfather and so on, had all earned master's degrees in finance in order to properly direct the firm. Today, it was Robb's turn and with the excellent results he had so far, _Stark's Investments'_ future looked as bright as ever.

But of course, the Starks' success was not solely about calculated risks and a perfect knowledge of the market; the power of the family's women had lots to do with its everlasting good fortune as well. While witch law forbade casting spells on people, there was nothing illegal about suffusing appeal to a product, or the venture of a company. So that's what the Stark women had done over the last few generations in order to ensure the investments of the firm's client's never lost value.

The recipe was a winning one without a doubt, for even in periods of crisis _Stark's Investments_ always managed to keep its clients accounts well above water, the current year being especially fruitful. After Ned advised his clients to purchase shares of a new promising vineyard in January, it became so popular that by May, their wine was completely sold out. Not long after that, a small organic farm the firm invested in started distributing their products all over Westeros, and more recently, the graphite mine north of the Wall Ned had believed in so much had signed contracts with several electric car manufacturers.

"But, Mum, I have power now and lots of it!" Sansa insisted. "I'll infuse some of it in the business and that will give you a chance to use your Skill for other stuff. What do you say, Mum? You barely ever get to weave spells for yourself."

"I don't mind it, Sansa, no matter what you may think. I've long passed the age of casting beauty spells on myself every morning. I can fix my hair and apply makeup on my own just fine. So what if I have a few hairs out of place? I'm not so vain as to use the Craft to keep myself looking like I came straight out of a magazine all day long. One anti-wrinkle and hair colouring spell per month is all a woman needs." Then, furrowing her brow, Mum contemplated her for a moment. "But you have a lot of power indeed," she added quietly. "Probably too much in fact. It's not normal for someone who has only just blossomed - you're nearly glowing with it. We'll need to find a way to empty your well at least by half."

Sansa blushed. She knew her mother did not mean it as a compliment, yet she couldn't help but be pleased by her remark. She always dreamed of glowing with power; it was deemed very attractive, something that would bring a woman of the blood many suitors.

"If I use my power to help you with the business, my well won't be so full. It'd be perfect, we'd be killing two birds with one stone."

Pulling his face into a dark scowl, her dad shook his head. "I forbid you from infusing any of your power in our clients' investments. With the origins of your Skill, this makes me anxious. There's no knowing if the spells you'd cast would last, or if the situation would not turn against us, somehow."

"But why? There's no reason my power should be wasted! And Mum said herself that my well was too full," Sansa complained, knitting her brow. "And why would the Hound turn on me? We are bound and so hurting me would hurt him as well, right? I… I know I can trust him."

Dad's laugh was devoid of any humour. "You trust a devil, Sansa? Can't you see how little sense that makes? Even someone as ignorant as me in demonology is aware of how malicious they're supposed to be. They aren't like us mortals. You cannot predict his actions and read him the way you would a living person."

Sansa had read as much in the grimoire, and the truth was she worried about this too, but she was not about to admit to it aloud. She needed to convince her parents that the Hound was her ally and that they were worrying for nothing and thus, she best keep her doubts to herself.

"The Hound? Is that the fiend's name?" her mother asked. "You referred to him like that before."

"Yes, that's what he told me he was called."

From her mother's air of disgust, Sansa surmised she wasn't impressed in the least.

"Well then, the Hound is neither welcome here, or in your life," Dad stated firmly. Exhaling a deep sigh, he ran a hand though his mostly gray hair. "We'll need to find a way to undo that Evocation ceremony. There must be a way out of this… or else… or else…"

Sansa gasped at hearing his words. "To undo the ceremony? Oh, no! I don't want you to find a way! I won't let you do it!" she cried out, fresh tears pearling in her eyes.

"Sansa," Mum pleaded, laying a gentle hand on her thigh. "I don't think you realise the implications of your actions. That new power may be fun for now, but this bond will be for your whole life! You will always be different because of it, will probably never get to marry and have a family of your own. How do you think a devil would deal with seeing you with a man?"

Sansa thought about it for an instant. From the Hound's attitude towards her, she had an inkling he would not tolerate it. Besides, even if she was wrong about it and he was not possessive in the least, what kind of guy would agree to share his wife with a demon? Her chances of ever knowing love were indeed slim to none.

 _You'll want no man in your bed after you've known a demon,_ the Hound's words came back to her. He said them just before their first encounter in that very gravelly voice of his and then, taken her countless times all through the night.

While Sansa was a virgin before him, she trusted he was right about this. With the spells he cast on her and how horny and responsive it made her, she couldn't envision how doing it with a mortal guy could even compare. Maybe she would never long for a regular partner after all - a devil would be enough.

But these were not details Sansa wished to share with her parents. Instead, she told them of the one very real fear she had for the longest time. "No man from a witch family would have ever wanted me anyway. Skilless as I was, I would have brought him nothing."

"Don't say that, Sansa. That's not true," Mum insisted, though the sadness in her eyes said otherwise.

"It is, Mum, and you know it! Every spinster in our congregation is unskilled or of lesser Skill. It's always been like that, and will never change. Even Joffrey dumped me because of it!"

Her features contorting painfully, Sansa let out a whimper hiding her face in her hands, abashed to be seen weeping for such an undeserving jerk. It made no sense: she wouldn't get back with him even if he begged her on his hands and knees, yet there was no denying the rejection still stung.

"Oh, sweetie, I didn't realise how heartbroken you were. I knew you were sad, but I would never have thought that it would push you to such extremes. Had I known… I would've been more present, perhaps I could have prevented this…" Mum said with regret.

"And I shouldn't have left the door of our occult library unlocked. That was a huge mistake on my part, yet I would never have thought that any child of mine would be so foolish as to attempt something so dangerous. From now on, it will be locked at all time and shielded with a spell," her dad said, glancing at Mum.

She nodded. "I'm too tired to do it just now, but I'll cast a spell after I've slept a bit."

"Yes, I think we all need to sleep for a few hours now. I can hardly think straight," he agreed.

Sansa bit her lip, not daring to hope this ordeal of a conversation might really be coming to an end at last - or at least, a hiatus, yet both of her parents apparently had had enough as well.

Sighing deeply, Dad gestured towards the hallway. "Go to bed, Sansa. We'll resume this discussion later tonight."

Fearing that he might change his mind if she spoke so much as a word, Sansa nodded and strode out of the kitchen at once. The instant her bedroom door shut behind her, she jumped in her bed and pulled her sheet and comforter over her. She didn't even have time to cry before sleep found her.

* * *

It was the sound of her siblings returning home from school that awoke Sansa in the late afternoon. While she had slept for many hours, she barely felt any better than before she went to bed. Dizziness overcame Sansa as she sat at the edge of her mattress and she stayed there, her face lowered in her open palms, for a few long minutes as she struggled to collect herself.

 _Oh, by the Seven._ _What am I going to do?_ she mused as the events of the previous night and morning came back to her. The predicament she had entangled herself into was so surreal, like something out of her worse nightmare. Sansa couldn't bear the thought of what she was putting her parents through. They were so worried for her, totally horror-struck, and with reason. And yet for all of that, there was no way that she agreed to any sort of attempt to undo the Evocation ceremony she had performed. Sansa was not going to turn her back on the Hound and the power her alliance with him granted her. It would make no sense at this point, not when she would be facing her parents' disapproval and disappointment no matter what. The damage was already done and if she was to be looked down on for the rest of her life, she'd rather it be with Skill.

After taking a long hot shower, Sansa put on her pyjamas and returned to her room. In a will to keep her mind from her present situation and lessen the anxiety pondering it triggered in her, she attempted to do some homework at her desk. Not surprisingly, her efforts proved worthless. She was too distracted, and kept thinking of her parents and the shock she saw in their eyes as she told them everything she dared to. Sansa had always been such a good girl and done whatever she could to please them. It pained her to turn rebellious overnight; it was out of character for her, certainly not something she would have done under regular circumstances. But life was not so simple, she had learned recently, and one had to make difficult choices in order to achieve the goals they set for themselves.

All too soon, dinner was ready and Sansa reluctantly joined her family in the dinning room, her legs unsteady as she walked down the grand staircase. She was greeted by a few furtive glances and a grunt from her father and sat down at her place without uttering a word.

Everyone ate in awkward silence, only exchanging short, practical sentences. Poor Bran and Rickon were exceedingly confused and kept peeking from Sansa to Mum and Dad, trying to understand the situation. Despite no one telling them about the Summoning she had performed, they knew for a fact that Sansa had messed up pretty badly from the way their parents screamed last night and the somber atmosphere that hung over the house ever since. As for Arya, she barely raised her eyes from the plate of spaghetti she was eating at full speed. In less than five minutes, she had inhaled everything on her plate and stood up to leave even before she swallowed her last mouthful.

"Thanks, Mum! That was very good," she said with much more enthusiasm than was necessary. "Well, I think I better head upstairs to study a bit now."

Sansa might have found her sister's uncharacteristic eagerness to study funny if not for her present dire circumstances. She clearly didn't wish to linger and really, who could blame her for it?

"Arya," their dad told her before she had a chance to take off. "Your mother and I need to talk to both you and your sister. I'll call for you when we're ready."

Her face growing long, Arya gulped and nodded just once. "Alright then," she said before walking away.

When everyone was finished eating, the dishes had been done, and the lunches packed, Sansa, Arya and their parents all met in Dad's office even as the boys headed to the basement media room to play video games. They sat around the small round table in the centre of the room, the door shut behind them. On her father's reading desk, Sansa noticed a pile of books, among which was the grimoire she used. _Has he found something?_ she wondered nervously. There were without a doubt few thesis on demonology which could be found in the the family's occult library, or any other book that might increase his knowledge on the subject. Sansa could only hope his research had so far been vain.

"Your mother and I have had a chance to rest and talk," Dad started, though he in truth looked just as worn-out as this morning. Sighing deeply, he shook his head in discouragement. "This Evocation… it was such a huge mistake, Sansa. It's a curse that's fallen on our family, but we'll make it through and stand by you no matter what. You are our daughter and we love you very much."

Mum nodded in agreement. "It's true, Sansa. We'll never let you down, I hope you realise that. Everything we're doing here, it's for your own sake, dear, and nothing else," she insisted with a genuine, yet very tired smile. Though she had showered and brushed her hair, she still didn't seem like her usual self.

"I do know all of that, of course," Sansa murmured. "But you don't need to worry about me. Everything is fine and I can assure you that I have the situation well under -"

Dad silenced her with a wave of his hand. "Hush now," he said before continuing like she had said nothing. "We came up with a strategy of sorts. First, I'd like to insist on the fact that this Evocation Sansa did must never be mentioned to anyone," he insisted, gazing at both Sansa and Arya in turn. "Not to any of your friends, not to Rickon or Bran, and I think I'd like to keep it from Robb and Jon, at least for now…"

"Of course I won't tell anyone. I know how bad the kind of magic I did is seen," Sansa replied with a blush.

By her side, Arya made a gesture like she was closing a zipper over her mouth. "I'm not telling anyone, no worries. Can I go now? I don't see why I need to be here. It's just that I have an exam tomorrow, you know, and so I really need to study-"

"You're staying. You'll have time enough for that after we're done," their dad interrupted her so harshly that she literally jumped in place.

"And now, let's hope that you have good grades for once. Funny how you only ever need to study when your parents want something of you and never have to when you ask us if you can go hang out with your friends," Mum commented dryly.

Grunting in agreement, Dad shot Arya a reproachful look. "Very strange indeed," he said even as Arya gazed down at her hands sheepishly. Then, clearing his throat, he squeezed his eyes shut, as if he were in pain. "For all of our need for secrecy, I'm afraid that we'll have no choice but to ask for some help from Lewin and Old Nan," he went on in a slow, weary voice. "No one knows the Craft as much as they do and your mother and I both feel confident that we can trust them with this. We really need to find a way to destroy this bond, somehow, and if anyone can help us, it's them. For now, the only lead I found is to ask a Septon to attempt an exorcism on you and I'm very reluctant to go in that direction. I'm not sure we can trust people of the church not to spread rumours the way we can Nan and Lewin. They usually make such a spectacle out of everything…"

Sansa gasped at hearing her father's words. "No! Not a Septon!" she exclaimed in dismay. How could her parents even consider such a thing?

The great witch families had an aversion to the Faith in general for the longest time. They had a history: some centuries ago, women ancestors of every family had been burnt at the stake by groups of fanatical Septons and Sparrows. The women who survived those dark times had learned to be discreet about their power in order to survive and taught their descendants to do the same.

"Not a good idea indeed," Mum agreed, her nose wrinkling in distaste. "Still, if it turns out to be our only choice… perhaps… perhaps we could…"

"Oh, no! Please don't do this! I beg you not to! It wouldn't work anyway. The Hound did not invade me unwillingly; I called him forth!" Sansa cried out, tears welling in her eyes. "And don't try anything else either, Dad. You're wasting your time. I won't cooperate, I told you already! The Hound… the Hound and I are linked now. I cannot betray him! What would that make me? _And I need him_!"

"Your father only has your best interest at heart, Sansa. You apparently don't know what's good for you. As your parents, it's our duty to watch over you and that's exactly what we're doing just now," Mum said.

His frown deepening, Dad glanced at Mum gratefully. "Thank you, Catelyn. But, Sansa the exorcism…" he trailed off, grimacing. "Well if it makes you feel better, it will most likely never take place. Drawing the Faith's attention is never a good idea and it's not like I'm convinced anything they'd do would actually work anyway. But there must be another way, there has to be, and we'll find it. You'll thank us in time, when you're older and wiser, you'll see."

"No, you're wrong," Sansa stated, gazing down dejectedly. Her throat was getting uncomfortably tight, like it always did whenever she was about to cry. This was so unfair! Just as she was getting used to her new Skill and to the demon she had to thank for it, here her parents wanted to throw it all away. It was her life, not theirs! She wanted to scream in outrage, but in her despair, she found herself unable to utter a single word.

As for poor Arya, she looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here and was glancing around herself as if she was searching for a way out, yet she knew better than to suggest that she leave this time around.

"Still, until we find a way to sever your link with that… that _Hound,_ as you call him, this new Skill of yours needs to be toned down," Dad said, massaging his temples. "As it is, it's far too noticeable and with the Tyrells going to the same school as you… and with Petyr Baelish being your principal… you going to school in your present state is not advisable. Rumours would spread…"

Sansa shivered at the mere mention of her principal's name. She fleetingly wondered what he'd think of her being bound to a demon from the Seven Hells and losing her virginity to him, and the notion made her all the more uncomfortable.

"Shielding yourself is the best solution," Mum continued. "Same as you did before last night. It would solve two problems at once. Empty your well and keep that fiend at bay."

Panic rose in Sansa, like steam in a kettle ready to burst. She shook her head violently, so distraught she was suddenly dizzy and short-breathed. "To shield myself? No, that I cannot do! Oh, no, no, no! _I can't_ "

"So, you _are_ afraid of him, my child. Did he threatened to hurt you if you blocked him again?" Dad asked in a mix of concern and anger.

"He did not!" Sansa nearly sobbed. "Of course not - why would he even do that? We are bound!" she reminded him. "It's just that I… I promised him… The Hound made me promise I would never shield myself against him again…"

"Course he has," Dad growled. "It's not in his interest that you block him. But you will do as I say."

"But, Dad, I can't! Didn't you hear? I gave him my word! What would that make me if I did not to keep it? I would be betraying him!"

Mum snorted, clearly unconvinced by her argument. "A promise made to a devil doesn't mean a thing, darling. There's no harm in not holding it."

Sansa's face was so wet with tears, she tasted the salt of them as she breathed through her mouth. She sniffed loudly, a spasm going through her. "I don't want to do it! Holding that shield was not nice for me at all, you know. I was so weak… And the Hound, he suffered while I shielded myself. I cannot harm him!"

"Are we supposed to pity him now?" Dad asked, shaking his head in astonishment. "Don't you see he's trying to manipulate you, to use your gentle nature to his advantage?"

Her anguish rising, Sansa began to shiver uncontrollably. "You don't know what you're talking about!" she shrieked. "I… I trust him."

"Which clearly shows your lack of discernment in the matter," Mum remarked. "Who's to say what got him to the Seven Hells to begin with? He could have been a liar, a thief, a killer…"

Even as her mother spoke, Sansa felt something strange coming from deep within her. It was like a touch, the Hound's touch. She gazed out the window, taken aback, to realise it had become fully dark outside.

 _Little bird, are you all right?_ a voice no one but her could hear murmured in the back of her mind.

The colour draining from her face, Sansa grew as stiff as a bow. _Stay where you are!_ she tried telling him.

But it was too late, apparently, for the Hound's psychic scent became noticeable a split second later. Though it was subtle, everyone sensed it. Arya's eyes widened with fear, Mum tensed, and Dad flinched…

"Your devil, Sansa. I told you to block him! And now, here you are calling him instead?" Dad said in a voice filled with outrage.

"Gods… such a powerful scent…" Mum whispered to herself, her face contorted in an expression of horror. She raised a hand to her nose, same as if she had just smelled something foul.

"I'm not calling him!" Sansa shouted in a frenzy. "It's just that he can sense my emotions and now, it's dark outside, so he's not trapped in the Void anymore! He doesn't like it when I'm upset; he told me he could sense my distress the other day when Joffrey… when Joffrey was being Joffrey and he was so very mad at him for putting me in that state. I really need to go, now!" With that, she stood from her chair, ready to stride away.

"Block him, Sansa!" Mum ordered her, catching her by the sleeve. "Don't let this creature into our house. You cannot let him soil it with his stench!"

And indeed, the Hound's psychic scent was getting stronger with every passing second, which in turn made her heart hammer frantically in her chest.

"I can't!" Sansa cried. "I made him a promise and I… I don't even know if I could stop him from leaving the Void at this point. It's too late! Let me go!" Wrenching herself free from her mother's grasp, she ran as fast as she could towards the staircase.

"Where do you think you're going?" Her dad roared.

Behind her, the sound of both her parents' steps echoed as they came after her. Sansa ran up the stairs, not daring to look back, and shut her bedroom door behind her as soon as she entered. After pushing her desk in front of the door, she leaned against it, using her entire body weight to keep it closed.

"Open immediately, Sansa!" Dad shouted, pushing at the door.

"No I won't! It's better this way, you don't want to see… to see _him_ … I … I don't think it's a good idea!"

Sansa wouldn't be able to keep the door shut for very long, not with both of her parents uniting their strength to force it open. Shutting her eyes, she hurriedly weaved a little spell to lock it with an invisible bolt, yet her mother saw it coming and prevented the bolt from closing with a spell of her own. Knitting her brow, Sansa pressed her upper arms and palms onto the door, using the strength of her legs to drive into it as hard as she could even as she infused more of her might into her spell, yet it was never enough, for Mum did just the same.

Mother and daughter fought against one another for a few interminable seconds and though Sansa certainly had more raw power available in her well, she was still new to her Skill whereas her mother had far more experience. Slowly but surely, she was losing the battle and she let out a groan of despair as she felt the door opening more and more despite her best efforts.

But then just as she was losing all hope, the Hound's psychic scent grew insufferably potent and a huge dark grey hand with long, sharp black claws landed on the door by her side, closing it completely. In the blink of an eye, the room became shockingly silent, like it was surrounded by nothing but emptiness.

Swirling around, Sansa gazed up, her eyes widening as they fell on the Hound's massive frame and terrifying features. While she was grateful for his timely arrival, fear seized her nonetheless as she met his strange, blazing eyes. By instinct, she leaned her back flat against the door in a will to keep as much distance as she could from him. No human could stand by such a fearsome and alien creature and not shiver as if their life was in danger, the fact they were bound didn't make it any different for Sansa. It was a mercy her parents were spared the sight of him and she prayed they never came face to face with him.

"Why were you crying, little bird? Who put you in that state?" the Hound asked her in his very distinctive rasp. Narrowing his eyes, he tilted his head to the side, his long, pointy horns cutting the air above his head as he did.

"It's my… my parents. They wanted me to shield myself against you again," Sansa whispered. Unable to control herself anymore, she resumed weeping. "And they told me they would find a way to break our bond! They want to undo my Evocation… I… I don't want them to do it."

The Hound's nostrils flared in anger. "They won't succeed," he rasped, tracing the line of her jaw with a long, sharp claw. The hint of a smile curved his lips then, though his eyes remained wrathful. "Nothing can sever our link, Sansa. That bond we have is forever. I told you already, didn't I?" he asked, drying the tears that bathed her cheeks with his knuckles.

Sansa nodded, her sobs subsiding. "Yes," she breathed gazing into his hypnotic animalistic eyes. She lost herself in them and for a moment, it was as if nothing else existed in the whole wide world.

"Come over here," the Hound bade her, pulling her into an embrace.

Offering no resistance, Sansa buried her face into his muscled chest, her hands rising to his torso. His skin was so hot, it was nearly burning to the touch, but she didn't mind, not truly. It was oddly comforting, the way a very hot shower could be soothing to the nerves after a long, strenuous day.

"Don't let them, or anyone, disturb your peace," the Hound muttered in her ear, his tone very calm and yet at the same time, somewhat threatening. "You and I, are all that matters in this bloody world from now on, you hear me? There's not a mortal walking this fucking planet that can destroy what we have."

"No one," Sansa repeated into his chest. "No one will destroy our bond."

"Yes, that's right." His hand sliding to her chin, he titled her face upward and bent down to kiss her on her mouth, unexpectedly softly.

Sansa met his tongue with hers and moaned at how good it felt. As their lips moved in unison, the scent of metal thickened around them and her head was spinning. Her limbs quickly losing their strength, she leaned her weight into him, feeling his erection against her upper belly and stirring at the fluttering the hardness woke deep in the pit of stomach.

"And that bond… that bond we have," the Hound rasped against her lips. "The more we fuck, the stronger it will become," he said lowly, caressing her hair. "I say we get to it right away, what do you think?"

Sansa nodded, gazing up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Yes," she agreed softly, the sweet pressure trailing down her loins increasing with every passing second.

A terrifying grin splitting his face, the Hound gathered her in his arms like she weighed nothing. He didn't utter a single word and walked towards the bed in silence.


	8. Chapter 8

_Hi to those still interested in this story. First off, I want to apologise for taking so long to update this chapter. More than 5 months, yikes! I've just been so very busy this summer and fall, but I should have more time to write from now on, so I'm confident the next chapter won't take nearly as long. Thanks for your patience! And thank you to_ _Athena-Noctua-Bubo for betaying this chapter! :D_

* * *

Wednesday and Thursday came and went without bringing any change to Sansa's situation. On both days, she was kept home again and spent endless, tiresome hours arguing with her parents while her siblings were at school. Again, it didn't matter whether they ordered her to block the Hound or if they begged her to listen to them, she did not budge from her position and refused to do as they asked. Every evening after darkness fell, she fled to her bedroom the first chance she got and barricaded herself inside till the next dawn. The shield the Hound built around the room insured that they not be bothered or overheard, which was very necessary seeing how loud they could be. The Hound's appetite was insatiable where she was concerned and Sansa herself was increasingly eager. She looked forward to his arrival more and more and often surprised herself thinking about what he had done to her the previous night at the most random moments, warmth pooling in her lower belly.

When Friday morning came, Sansa knew things would be different from the instant her mother shook her awake, much earlier than she had on the previous days.

"Up now, Sansa. You'll be going to school today'" Catelyn informed her matter-of-factly.

"Really?" Sansa asked in disbelief, her voice nearly as raspy as the Hound's. Confused, she opened her eyes in slits and watched her mother as she walked to the window.

"Yes. Your father and I talked for hours last night and we figured keeping you at home any longer wouldn't do much apart from attract unwanted attention to you," Mum told her as she opened the curtains. Sansa squinted, the sun's glare hurting her eyes. "Besides, you need to keep your grades up, no matter that new… _presence_ in your life," she added stiffly.

Though Sansa was exhausted to the point of dizziness, she gasped happily as her mother's words dawned on her. "Thank you!" she exclaimed, careful to keep her blankets covering her naked body as she sat up. "Thank you so much!"

The previous afternoon, Sansa tried long and hard to convince her parents to allow her to go to school, yet neither seemed to think it was a good idea at the time. She had not expected them to change their mind so quickly.

"Hurry up now. You don't want to be late," mum bade her, her lips pulling in a thin line.

Sansa nodded and started preparing the instant Mum shut the door behind her. Once more, sleep hadn't been nearly long enough for her – the Hound didn't give a moment of respite when he was there and she only had had a couple of hours of rest after he left. Her head swam with fatigue and she felt unsteady on her legs as she put on her uniform, yet for all of that, Sansa smiled to herself as she applied mascara on her lashes. The prospect of escaping the house's stuffy air for a few hours was so very appealing; it felt like forever since she had been beyond these four walls!

As she ate her breakfast of yogurt and granola, her gleefulness was tempered as she remembered the tale she needed to tell everyone at school. It wasn't anything extravagant – she had an indigestion after eating seafood on Monday evening from which she has only just recovered – and her parents wrote a note to corroborate her story, so there was really no reason anyone would question it whatsoever. Nevertheless, Sansa hated lying and sucked at it besides, so to say that she wasn't looking forward to it wasn't an understatement. She dreaded it in fact!

"Sansa, come," Dad's voice came from the kitchen's threshold just as Sansa was putting her bowl and spoon in the dishwasher. He gestured for her to follow him and led her to the backyard.

"I want you to use your Skill to repair the shed's shingle roof," he instructed her, pointing at the old crumbling building.

Sansa knitted her brow. "Why?" she asked, unable to hide her annoyance. She had been ready to leave, why was he asking her this just now?

Ned glared at her, clearly displeased to be challenged. "Don't pretend like you don't know it, young lady. We have to tone down that blasted power of yours. Your well is far too full as it is," he told her in a voice that brooked no arguing. He sighed, clearly exhausted and added, while messaging his temples: "And besides, I've been putting off repairing that shingle roof for far too long. It's truly in a horrible state. Why don't you show me what you can do now, huh? That devil of yours was here again last night, was he not?"

Sansa didn't answer. She knew her father's question was only rhetorical - the Hound's psychic scent was far too strong for anyone of the blood not to notice his presence. Resigning herself, she shut her eyes and pictured what it was that he wanted of her: the slate roof all shiny and new, with no trace of the moss, spider web, chips and cracks that covered it.

In no time, a strong gust of warm wind blew over her, sending her loose hair flying over her shoulders. The wind swirled around the yard, like a small tornado, and for a moment, Sansa forgot about everything but her task. She raised her arms high, feeling her vision take form even as euphoria bubbled in her mind. Grinning, she lowered her arms and exhaled deeply, knowing full well she had succeeded in her undertaking even before she opened her eyes. When she did though, she quickly lost her smile as she met her father's gaze, his uneasiness rubbing off on her. She was dizzy, she realised, and she took a step back to lean against the large tree trunk by her side.

"That was fast," her dad commented. His tone was flat, however Sansa knew him well enough to tell that he was impressed – impressed and unsettled as well. His eyes narrowed at her, he studied her warily for a time, lost in his thoughts. "Your well's still too full," he commented eventually, his frown deepening. "I think I'd like that slate to be light grey instead of that dark charcoal colour it is now. Why don't you fix that for your father?"

Sansa's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "But, dad! I'm exhausted already! I gave that spell everything I had!" she complained. "Please don't make me do it… A witch cannot empty her well: _it's dangerous_!"

"You think I don't know how Skill works? You still have too much power. That well of yours can be emptied a bit more without danger, trust me. Go on now!"

Blinking back tears that threatened to spill, Sansa took a deep breath and did as she was bade. This time there was no pleasure in the weaving of her spell, she was too frustrated for that, and by the time the shingle roof was at last to her father's liking, she was totally drained and dying to lay down, if only for a few minutes. Unfortunately, it was not to her bed she headed, but to school. Dad was kind enough to give her a lift, though that was in truth more worrisome than anything else seeing as he never, ever, drove any of his children to school. There was no doubting she must've looked truly horrible for him to make such an exception.

As Sansa sat in class later on, keeping her eyes open proved a true struggle and being attentive to what the teacher said was straight out impossible in these conditions. On the bright side in her poor state, no one could doubt that she had indeed been sick. Mrs. Mordane even went as far as to suggest that it might be a good idea that she returned home after she first saw her arrive in class, but Sansa assured her that she was all right – _another lie_.

Not far from her, Joffrey sat at his desk continuously peeking her way with the most horrid sneer on his face. Sansa tried to avoid his gaze as best she could, but every now and then - it was stronger than her - she would turn towards him and be met by his cruel beady green eyes and mocking expression. She would look away at once in those instances, shivering at the thought that she had ever found him charming. At least, neither Boros nor Meryn were with them in this class this morning. Sansa had noticed Joffrey was not as daring when he wasn't flanked by his two boorish friends, so she felt somewhat safe from any confrontation. Therefore, she was taken by surprise when, just after the bell rang, Joff followed her outside the classroom.

"Mrs Mordane is right: you should've stayed home and saved us all from having to look at that tired face of yours," he whispered in her hair from just behind her.

Jumping in place, Sansa cried out and took a hasty step away from him, the same way she would if a wasp been caught in her curls.

Pleased with her reaction Joff guffawed loudly. Then, closing the gap between them, he approached his face near enough that she could smell the fruity gum he was chewing. "You look like a bloody raccoon. Not sure how I could have ever found you pretty," he said, his face pulled with disgust. "Must've been a spell, from that ugly little sister of yours, maybe, or from your mother. It's not like you could ever have pulled this off on your own."

"Leave me alone!" Sansa retorted. Swirling around, she strode away from him as fast as she could.

Joff didn't come after her and Sansa breathed a sigh of relief as she reached the corridor's corner, yet only as she turned did she notice that Meryn was there, waiting for her. Unable to slow down at such short notice, she bumped right into his chest. The later seized her by the wrist, laughing, and twisted her arms until it stung.

"Ah!" Sansa yelped. "What are you doing? It hurts!" In a panic, she scanned her surroundings in search of help, but only saw the backs of students scurrying away.

"Little miss perfect was not here for the last few days? Too busy crying at home, I wager," Meryn sneered.

"Let me go!" Sansa exclaimed, however Meryn only twisted her arm harder. She moaned in pain even as Joffrey's sniggers echoed through the corridor.

"Or perhaps she was truly sick," the boy suggested. "Spent the last three days sitting on the throne, shitting her bowels out. Disgusting!"

Both of them laughed raucously at that and Sansa used the occasion to attempt to pull herself free, yet Meryn tightened his grip around her wrist, so much so that she cried out again. A pang of agony ran through her arm and tears began pricking her eyes. _Don't cry. Don't cry,_ she ordered herself. In that instant, she wasn't sure if she was more terrified they'd end up injuring her in truth or that she'd break down right in front of them.

Thankfully, just as she was beginning to fear that she wouldn't be saved from either, someone pushed Meryn hard enough that he lost his grip on her wrist.

"Hey, stop that! Don't you hurt her!" Podrick shouted.

Sansa backed away from Meryn and Joffrey even as Pod protectively interposed himself between them. _Podrick?_ she thought in surprise. Since when was he so brave?

"Hey, pimple face! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Joffrey yelled at him, his head and neck as red as a tomato and the big artery in his neck pumping noticeably. "Get him, Meryn!"

"My pleasure," the latter said, a mean grin stretching his lips.

His jaw dropping and face turning white, Podrick took a step back, apparently only now realising the trouble he had gotten himself into. "L… leave us, n…n… now!" the boy said, his usual stammer back with a vengeance.

Meryn was a good head taller than Sansa, Podrick and Joffrey and even had a small beard, which made him look much older than he actually was. He was very intimidating without a doubt and well aware of it. Pod held no chance against him and they all knew it.

"Beat him up!" Joffrey commanded, an evil, crazy spark passing though his eyes.

By the look on Meryn's face, he was all too happy to oblige. He punched his closed fist into his palm and took another quick step in Podrick's direction, ready to attack at any instant.

"Joffrey! Meryn! What in the Seven is going on over here?" Mrs. Mordane's stern voice came from further away in the corridor. No one noticed the teacher's arrival, least of all those two, and they both started as they heard her words.

"Oh, nothing Mrs. Mordane," Joffrey hurried to reply, turning around to smile stiffly at her. "We were just chatting."

Meryn nodded in agreement, taking his distance from Sansa and Podrick in just a heartbeat to lean his back against the wall in an all too casual pose.

"Is that so?" the old woman asked, peering at Sansa and Pod over her reading glasses.

Pod opened his mouth to speak, however Sansa answered before he had a chance to utter a word. "It is, Mrs. Mordane," she said, not the reply either her friend nor her teacher had expected. Pod gave her a confused look to which Sansa replied with a gaze of her own, one that she hoped would sway him to keep quiet. "Thank you for your concern," she added, addressing the teacher. "Well, we better hurry now, or else we'll be late for our other class, won't we, Pod? Come!"

And with that, Sansa scurried away, grasping Podrick by the arm and pulling him behind herself. When they were far enough that they wouldn't be overheard, Sansa halted and turned to Pod.

"Thank you, Podrick," she whispered to him. "It was very brave of you to intervene. If it wasn't for Mrs. Mordane, Meryn would surely have punched you in the face. You shouldn't have risked it."

His cheeks flushed red, Pod looked down at his feet like he often did when Sansa and him were alone. "It's n… n…. nothing, Sansa. I h… hate what Joffrey has been doing to y… you," he stammered.

If Sansa hadn't felt so ugly and dishevelled, she might have wondered if it wasn't her proximity which made him blush. Yet in her present state, that anyone might think her pretty seemed impossible. _Joffrey is right; I'm a nightmare to look at_ , she mused glumly.

"Why d… didn't you tell Mrs. Mordane that Joffrey was bullying you? He deserved to stay in detention."

Sansa knitted her brow, wondering the same for a moment. Sighing, she rubbed her hands over her face and let her shoulders drop. "You're right, I should have. But he's mean enough as he it is. I'd rather not give him more reasons to hate me. Let's forget about that now, okay? We should both hurry up because the bell is just about to ring. What do you say?"

Though he didn't appear to agree with everything she said, Pod nodded and they both headed toward their respective classroom.

* * *

The remainder of the day was long and tiresome for Sansa. Every few minutes, she peered at the clock and sighed in discouragement, dreaming of the blessed moment she could at long last lie down in her bed and peacefully drift peacefully to sleep. The only positive was that Joffrey did not bother her again, only stared at her loathingly from the other side of the cafeteria during the lunch break. That was enough to rob her of the little appetite she had though, and she had to force herself to ingest the egg salad sandwich Mum had prepared for her. The afternoon classes proved the hardest; she could barely keep her eyes open and ended up dozing off on her desk for the last half hour of the school day. When she finally arrived home afterwards, Sansa jumped into her bed without bothering to take off her plaid skirt and white blouse and fell asleep in just a few seconds.

She was awakened some time later by the sound of her sister talking very loudly on the phone, her laughter resounding through the wall they shared. The house was filled with the smell of Mum's pork chops and Sansa's tummy grumbled in complaint even before she truly came round. Gods, but she was starving! she realised as she twisted into herself on her mattress. The sandwich she had eaten for lunch was very, very far away.

Feeling slightly better than before she went to bed, Sansa gingerly stood up and yawned. Sleep had rested her body and given her well a chance to fill up a little, but it was nonetheless still much emptier than she liked. Not for the first time, she wished her father had not ordered her to drain it so completely this morning. What was a witch worth without her power? Not much, apparently.

Dinner was just as awkward as it had been for the last few days, but at least there was some semblance of exchanges. Surely to keep up appearances for her poor two unaware younger brothers' sake, Mum and Dad dutifully asked everyone in turn about their days and feigned interest as they listened to their stories of soccer practice and schoolyard chatter. When it was Sansa's turn, she was questioned about her teachers' reaction to her return to class after three days absence. Everything had gone well, she assured them, and her teachers and classmates were relived to see her back. Sansa left it there and kept this morning's incident to herself. Her wrist still stung from where Meryn had grabbed it and twisted her arm. Thank goodness Podrick interfered before he and Joff had a chance to truly hurt her. Because they would have, she was sure about it now. Ever since Joffrey dumped her, things had only escalated. Sansa shivered at the thought of it, suddenly very nervous. Chances were, Pod was right and she should've told Mrs. Mordane the truth indeed, yet would it really have helped in the long run? She wasn't convinced.

When dinner was over, Sansa hurried to her room, hoping to sleep at least a few more hours before the Hound's arrival. As she passed by her father's office, she noticed the pile of ancient velum books on his desk had grown even taller since she'd last seen it. For the last few days, all he had done from morning to very late at night was read every single thesis on demonology he could get his hands on and talk on the phone with Lewin for what seemed like hours sometimes. The dark circles under his eyes had only deepened, which made Sansa wonder if he would ever recuperate, yet she chased the thought away, unable to bear the guilt it roused in her. It would all turn around eventually, it had to.

After taking a long, very hot shower, Sansa jumped in bed without bothering to put on a nightgown. She fell asleep in just a couple of minutes, enjoying the liberating sensation of her conscience slowly leaving her body, of her limbs getting heavy and numb even as her soul grew as light as the wind. In no time, reality became a very distant thought and then, completely inexistent.

In her dream, she was walking through one of the school's corridors, though this corridor was much dimmer and longer than any she remembered. Sansa must have gotten lost in an area she had never ventured in before, for she didn't recognise any of the classrooms she passed by. Instead of her school uniform, she was dressed in the same frilly nightgown she wore the night of her Evocation ceremony. It was crumpled and bloodied where she had cradled her wounded hand against her chest and there were dark soot traces over its formerly white fabric. Although she didn't know why, Sansa trembled with fear and gasped for breath. By instinct, she began to stride and then, to run as if her life depended on it. It was dark, so very dark, and the few fluorescent lamps that lit the place flashed like stroboscopes. Soon, sobs began shaking her uncontrollably even as tears poured down her cheeks, so much she was nearly blinded. And then suddenly, her flight came to an abrupt stop as she bumped into something hard.

"Little miss perfect," Meryn said, grasping her by the wrist.

Sansa yelped in pain and tried to free herself, but he only tightened his hold on her and twisted her arm.

Joffrey was there also, she realised in dismay and he was gazing at her, a smirk twisting his disgusting, wormy lips. "Gods, how hideous she is. Look at her," he sneered. "Beat her bloody, Meryn. She deserves it for being so repulsive."

Laughing, Meryn nodded in agreement. He raised his fist high, ready to punch her right in the nose. Shutting her eyes, Sansa let out a cry of despair, yet before he had time to do anything, a series of brusque and rapid movements was heard around them and he unexpectedly let go of her.

"You bastard," a very, very raspy voice hissed. "No one hurts my little witch."

Her eyes opened at once, Sansa was stunned to see the Hound standing just behind Meryn, holding him by the throat. Or more precisely, it was his dark outline that she saw, the tall, pointy horns and large bat-like wings like a backdrop to Meryn's purple face. Desperate guttural noises escaped his open mouth even as a thin rivulet of blood slowly ran down the corner of his lips. Unfazed, the Hound kept on closing his fingers around his neck until Meryn stopped convulsing at last and became as limp as a ragdoll. Tossing his lifeless body to the floor, the fiend turned his attention on Joffrey.

"No! Please don't kill me, Mister Demon!" Sansa's ex boyfriend pleaded, sounding very childish. He took a step back, holding his open palms in front of himself.

However, unluckily for him, the Hound didn't listen and plunged his clawed hand right through his heart. He withdrew it, his fingers dripping thick droplets of dark blood, and let Joffrey's corpse fall heavily onto Meryn's carcase.

"Little bird, I'm here," the demon rasped, turning to gaze down at her.

He was so tall, his grey skin as dark as tar in the dimness and his eyes shone like stars in the night sky. Sansa lost herself in them, grateful for his timely arrival.

"Little bird," a very real voice whispered to her. "Little bird," the voice repeated, waking her up. "I'm here."

And indeed, there he was, right on top of her in her bed. Sansa looked into his blazing eyes, disoriented and dizzy for the time it took the haze of sleep to dissipate. Gods, how heavy and warm he was… she twisted under him, unsettled. _It was all just a dream_ , she mused, blinking. And yet it had seemed so real…

The Hound was grinning at her, like he was pleased with himself. "They're just kids, those who torment you. And that one with that tiny bit of witch blood is just so bloody weak. I could crush him like a gnat under my boot. There's no reason you should allow them to keep the upper hand."

Her heart hammering in her chest, Sansa stared back at him, utterly confused. "I… I don't understand. Who are you talking of? How… how do you know?"

The Hound furrowed his good brow, looking slightly perplexed. "I was there with you just a moment ago. You saw me, didn't you? I killed them."

"But… but, I was dreaming. It wasn't real…"

The demon snorted, like she said something stupid. "The line between what's real or not is a very blurry one, you know, one a demon can cross easily enough, especially when the pretty little witch he's bound with needs to be rescued." With his knuckle, he caressed her cheek, very softly. "We're one, remember, Sansa? _One_. I'm always by your side, will always be. Even when you don't see me. Even when you dream."

For a moment, it was as if Sansa forgot to breathe. Her mouth was dry, her palms clammy. She wasn't sure how she should feel about his claim and kept hearing his words echo in her mind, over and over again.

"I could kill them for real, if you wanted it. It would be so fucking easy, too easy in fact," the Hound breathed, his grin broadening into something feral and scary.

Sansa gasped at hearing his suggestion. "No! Don't you dare kill anyone!" she let out with far more verve than she had intended.

The Hound appeared taken aback at first, for his eyes widened, but then he uttered the roughest laugh Sansa had ever heard and rolled off of her to lay on his side next to her. He was naked, same as her, and the blankets she had covered herself with when she went to bed were nowhere to be seen. There was something vulgar about the way each line of his muscular torso grew more defined as he guffawed. He seemed so at ease, like he didn't have a care in the word, and Sansa watched him, transfixed.

"You think I've never killed before? Didn't end up in the Seven Hells for no reason, you know," he informed her, his teeth bared. "I don't remember much of the time when I was still a living, breathing man - been too bloody long - yet if there's one thing that I do remember, it's that I've killed plenty and of all sorts." He narrowed his eyes at her, clearly taking pleasure in her evident shock. "Rich men, paupers, warriors and septons. Women and children too, didn't matter to me. They were all meat and I, _the butcher_."

Horror-stricken, Sansa's spine uncurled into the mattress till she was as stiff as a bow. She was dumbstruck, unlike the Hound who himself apparently couldn't stop talking.

"I killed more recently as well, plenty of times. Had many occasions to. Any idea of how it came about?"

At a loss for words, Sansa only shook her head.

The Hound smiled and brought a clawed hand near her cheek to caress her hair. "There are witches in the Eastern parts of Essos who have found a way to summon armies of demons." He approached her, his eyes flashing. "They do it without bounding themselves to any– they don't break the demons' shackles, only stretch their tethers temporarily. And then, they make them fight their wars. I've been among those armies, killing in the dark of night for an hour or two before being sent back to the Seven Hells. There's not much to gain from such exchange for us devils, yet none would ever refuse a chance to escape from the buggering Seven Hells, even if only for a few minutes, and those Eastern witches use that knowledge to their advantage. The clever bitches."

Shuddering, Sansa looked at him like she was seeing him for the first time. _He's a demon, what was I expecting?_ She really shouldn't be surprised by his admission and yet she was. "This is… this is horrible. I hope you never kill again and I certainly don't want you to do it for me," she murmured with tears in her eyes.

His amusement giving place to annoyance in the blink of an eye, the Hound glowered at her, a very frightening sight to behold. "If you won't let me rid you permanently of those boys, you'll at least need to make them pay. I told you the other day that I could teach you how to control them. You could get into their minds and make them do whatever you wished. Off the top of my head, I can think of a dozen things that would do well enough, I told you of a few already. You refused. Why? Those bastards certainly deserve to be humiliated. They bothered you again today, I know it. I could feel it all the way from the Void."

"You're right," Sansa admitted in a weak, trembling voice. She swallowed, adamant about telling him her mind, no matter how much he intimidated her. Wasn't she supposed to be the master in this relationship? "But I have not changed my mind. I… I don't want you to intervene and I certainly don't want to break witch law by casting spells on them."

The Hound glared at her. "You're stubborn. Don't know why," he hissed through clenched teeth. "You'll change your mind eventually, you'll see. But in the meantime…" he trailed off, gazing down at her naked curves with unhidden interest. "In the meantime, I know of something you won't refuse, something you'll beg me for very soon in fact."

A small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, he brought his face to the crook of her neck to nuzzle it and lowered his hand to her crotch. Sansa sucked in her breath, his touch having an instantaneous effect on her. In no time, she was wet and mewing like a kitten, which seemed to please the Hound.

Around them, the telltale scent of metal rapidly thickened. Sansa's head spun with delight and confusion and before she could understand what was happening to her, the Hound had spread her legs and placed himself between them. With no more foreplay, he plunged his rock-hard dick in her. A deep groan escaped her lips as she felt herself stretch around him, his massive member going deep within her from his very first thrust. There was no pain, only the now familiar and yet still incredibly overwhelming sensation of being oh, so very full, and Sansa eagerly rocked her hips with his.

"Yes, good girl," the demon said lowly, cupping her cheek. Then, narrowing his eyes at her, he barred his teeth and added like it was a threat: "You're gonna come for me now, little bird, you hear me? No beating around the bush this time around. You'll be screaming in ecstasy in just a moment, you'll see."

With that, he dramatically increased the strength of his spell. In just a couple of seconds, the air of the room became so thick, it was like being in a copper smelling sauna. Sansa coughed and then, whimpered as her loins started throbbing with unforeseen intensity. Never before had the Hound cast a spell so potent on her so soon, there had always been a progression to his bewitchment of her and this new approach was just as scary as it was thrilling.

"Oh, gods," she let out, totally overwhelmed by the sudden strength of her need.

The Hound snorted "Never been mistaken for a god before, quite the opposite in fact…" he rasped, finding her clitoris with his fingers.

Adding pressure, he watched her squirm under him, a strange spark shining in his eyes. Sansa could hardly control herself already and lost it altogether when he began tracing small circles over her clit. She let out a series of moans, each more lascivious than the last, and nearly sobbed in relief when the Hound at long last started pounding himself well and truly in her. Closing her legs around his muscled lower back, she bucked her hips against his, feeling her own moisture drip down her butt crack a little more with each of his easy, powerful shoves in her.

As promised by the Hound, her climax was near, so very near already, and in her present state, it was all Sansa could think about. She would have begged for it in fact had forming words been a possibility at that instant. It was not, so instead, she arched her back and pushed her pelvis against the demon's groin, relishing the intoxicating currents the action sent through her. She revelled in all the little signs that signaled her release was near, that she would soon be relieved of this unbearable tension the Hound and his dark art had roused in her. Yet at the same time, she was growing more and more impatient. She wanted the real deal, and she wanted it _now_.

And then just as Sansa was about to sob in frustration, a torrent of bliss washed over her, crushing her into the bed beneath her just as brutally as a river breaching a dam. While she had been waiting for it, praying for it even, she cried out, the violence of it taking her aback. As she did, the Hound twisted her hair in a knot around his fist and pulled, hard, until her throat was revealed. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and whispered lowly in her ear:

"You approach him, in your mind's eye," his low rumble of a rasp came. "Up close, till you're near enough to feel _him_ , who he is. You'll sense his physical barrier then…"

Her eyes popping open in panic, Sansa let out a groan of protest. She knew where he was going with this and the last thing she wanted was to hear the rest of it, yet there was no way of stopping him. She was literally paralysed by her own pleasure, her orgasm having effectively tethered her to the mattress.

The Hound made good use of her helplessness and, never faltering from claiming her, he kept on muttering his vile words. "The hardest part is to make your way inside of him, but you'll manage it easily enough. Just concentrate on a very, very small section of the bugger's barrier, something like a cubic millimetre or less. And then, you send the hugest bolt of energy you can, and puncture right through it. It won't withstand the strength of your blow, believe my bloody words."

"No, stop it," Sansa breathed weakly even as wave after wave of utmost ecstasy kept coursing through her. She was shaking in rapture, totally at the devil's mercy. That was what he had intended, she knew.

"In order to control him, you'll need to create invisible strings, tying him to your fingers," he added, his voice raw and thin. "Just by moving your hand, you'll have the power to make the bastard do whatever you please. He'll be yours, with no protection whatsoever from you. You'll be his master…"

"No…" Sansa murmured, convulsing as the culmination of her orgasm finished subjugating her. She shut her eyes and, unable to control herself, she clung to the Hound like her life depended on it and grounded herself against him.

As she did, the demon stopped talking at long last and bit hard at her neck. With his clawed hand clenched around her waist, he guided his comings and goings, hammering himself in her with increasing strength until he at long last found his own release. His rough grunts joined in with Sansa's dying moans, for a time, but soon enough, both of them grew limp and a heavy silence fell over the room.

It took what seemed like an eternity to Sansa before she regained full consciousness. While she did not remember changing position, she was lying on top of the Hound when she came round, his sticky, nearly boiling-hot sperm slowly dripping from her folds. Groaning, she opened her eyes in slits and stretched. As she did, her gaze fell on his bat-like wings, spread wide under him and taking up the entire width of her queen size bed. His eyes were closed, she noticed, like he was sleeping. But that didn't seem likely. How could something that was dead sleep? Whatever the answer to that question, there was no denying he appeared somewhat peaceful in his rest. The notion surprised her at first and then, aggravated her as she remembered what he had just done to her. _He's betrayed me_.

Biting hard at her lip, she squeezed her eyes shut and lifted a hand to her face to rub it desperately. _I'll forget it. I'll forget it all. Everything,_ she told herself, the words like a prayer. Perhaps if she repeated them often enough, they would become true indeed. Or, if not, perhaps she could cast a spell on herself and then… and then…

"No, you won't," the Hound's gravelly voice interrupted her train of thoughts. "This'll be useful to you, you'll see, little bird. You gotta stop with those doubts and fears that plague you. Fuck witch law. You gotta think of yourself first and foremost."

Tears filled Sansa's eyes. "But you don't understand! I didn't want to know, I would have rather remained ignorant! Why did you have to do this?"

"Did it for your own good. You'll change your mind and thank me eventually, you'll see," the demon said, his voice no more than a rough whisper. With his hand, he caressed her hair, unexpectedly gently.

Sansa furrowed her brows and stiffened, yet she didn't try to push him away and remained silent. There was no use in arguing with a demon, not when the damage was already done. Still whatever he said, she would prove him wrong. This would never be useful to her and she would forget indeed. Soon, she'd fall asleep, and when she woke up, it would all be gone, forever from her mind, she decided.


	9. Chapter 9

_Finally, a chapter! Sorry for the super long wait… :S_

 _Special thanks to Athena-Noctua-Bubo for betaying this chapter! :D_

* * *

On Monday morning, Sansa stood before her mirror, smiling to herself. She looked so beautiful, more than ever, and though it was undeniably vain of her, she couldn't stop herself from admiring her reflection. Never before had her skin been so clear and glowing and the blue of her eyes so vibrant. Her hair bounced healthily all the way down to the small of her back, like she was a model from a conditioner commercial. On top of that, she felt so good, better than she had in a very long time. It was all exceedingly intoxicating and she might have spent the whole day engrossed in self-admiration had it not been from her father calling her.

"Sansa, come down stairs," his voice boomed through the grand staircase.

"Just a minute!" Sansa cried out. _Gods, what time is it?_ she wondered, her eyes widening as they fell on her clock radio. By the Seven, but it was later than she thought! Without missing a beat, she put on her jacket and scarf, grabbed her backpack and hurried downstairs.

"Morning, Dad!" she said as she arrived in the hallway, forcing herself to smile brightly at him.

Ned smiled stiffly back at her, and gestured for her to follow him outside. When they were both standing on the front porch, he nodded at the vines, which had grown quite impressively throughout the last few days. "Flowers would be nice," he stated, before glancing down at her.

Sighing deeply, Sansa rolled her eyes like she was exasperated. Deep down though, she was in truth thrilled at the prospect, but she knew better than to reveal herself. "Alright," she answered as petulantly as she could.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her father's demand and in no time, several pink and white buds sprouted all over the luxuriant green vine. Soon, the buds blossomed, their large, delicate petals opening like they were living, breathing creatures with wills of their own even as a thick and rich perfume filled the surrounding air. To Sansa's delight, she caught a glimpse of her father's enchantment before he remembered himself and hid it with a frown. As their eyes met, she did likewise and assumed a desolate air of her own.

Her well was still far too full, therefore before she got her customary inspection, Sansa tapped a little more into it and built a very thin veil all around her core, just like the Hound had taught her to, to dim the apparent strength of her power. Once more, the stratagem was a success.

"That's good, Sansa. You can head to school now," her dad told her.

"Thanks, Dad," Sansa replied flatly before walking away as nonchalantly as she could.

She was always afraid he would see right through her trickery, though Sandor assured her it'd be impossible so long as she upheld her spell. Thankfully once more, he was right, and Sansa breathed a sigh of relief when she at last was out of Ned's sight.

Without losing a beat, she let go of the veil she had created and unleashed her full power. With it, her hair instantly became even bouncier, in a hairstyle that was in fashion at the moment, and her school uniform moved around her to hug her body to perfection, like it was tailor-made. Makeup appeared on her face, light and natural yet done to a professional level she'd long dreamed of mastering.

Gazing at her reflection in a parked car's window, Sansa smiled to herself, satisfied. She was just about to bring her face nearer to have a better look when a snort came from just behind her.

"Careful, Sansa. If you move any closer, you might set off the car's alarm!"

Blushing, Sansa straightened her back and glanced at her sister over her shoulder. "Don't exaggerate! I was being careful," she said before averting her gaze and resuming her walk.

Arya caught up with her, her eyes busy examining Sansa. "This is a bit much, don't you think, Sansa? You look just like you just came out of a hair salon. You don't need all that, not to go to school."

"Really? Have you ever taken a good look at Margaery? She wears more makeup than I do now just to go pick up her mail on her front porch in the morning," Sansa answered. "And by the way, who are you to tell me that? There's just as much _care_ in your look as in mine, no matter how dishevelled it is."

As always, her sister's eyes were smeared with black kohl and her black dyed hair was an utter mess - though from having witnessed her sister preparing herself in the morning, Sansa knew it was done with great care.

Arya furrowed her brows dismissively. "Perhaps, but I don't waste my Skill on my looks at least. This is all done by my own two hands. You shouldn't have to do it either."

"Why not? I have more power than I can use, but Dad won't let me infuse even a drop of it in the family business. He'd rather make me waste it growing all the vines and shrubs there's to be found in the garden and front lawn. If it's to be so, I don't see why I couldn't have a little fun with it. You'd do the same."

"Maybe," Arya grumbled, shrugging. "Whatever, it's not like I really care anyway."

Sansa rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation. This was so typical of her sister these days: to pretend like she didn't give a shit about anything. Yet in spite of how annoying her constant show of indifference could be, Sansa was certainly grateful to have someone like Arya around from whom she didn't have to keep secrets. They may bicker most often than not, Arya was trustworthy and always had her back when it truly mattered, which was precious in these hard times. And so as they walked the remainder of the way to school together, Sansa did her best to be a good sister to Arya and made an effort not to judge her too much as she told her of the new group of rogue friends she hung out with and of all the anti-capitalist graffiti they did around town.

"Be careful not to get caught," Sansa told her as they parted ways in the school's hallway.

Turning to look her straight in the eyes, Arya shot her a very honest look. "You mostly, _Sansa_. Be careful."

"Don't worry about me," Sansa replied, though she didn't feel as confident as sounded. "I'll be just fine."

* * *

Her first class went more than well. Sansa felt in total control, like she was on top of the world. Never had mathematics been so easy to master before; she understood every single new notion her teacher introduced with not an ounce of difficulty and would not have needed to take notes seeing how crystal clear everything was. How could she ever forget any of it? Yet Sansa did it anyway, if only to pass the time as she waited for her classmates to be done with all of their stupid questions. She used pens of five different colours, as well as all the highlighters she had in her pencil case, and added intricate little drawings around the text. Her notebook was a true work of art by the time she was done, one of which she was very proud of and looked forward to lending to those classmates she knew for a fact would ask for them later on. Her notes were always very coveted.

When the morning break came, Sansa headed towards the cafeteria to meet Pod and Jeyne. They would eat their snacks and chat as they did most mornings. Sansa wondered what they'd think of her hair; it did look amazing. Though she kept her gaze straight ahead of her, she could tell those she passed by as she strolled through the long corridor discreetly glanced her way, some with admiration, others envy.

"Sansa! Look at you!" Mr. Baelish 's voice called her. "You're glowing!"

 _Oh, gosh! Not him!_ Sansa thought, her whole frame tensing. The last thing she wanted just then was to stay and have a chat with her school principal, yet it would be impolite of her to keep going. Reluctantly, she halted and turned to face him.

"Thank you, Mr. Baelish," she said, forcing herself to smile. "That's too kind of you. How are you doing?"

"I'm always doing well when I see you, sweetling. And I was only telling you the truth, you're breathtaking. Come, let me have a look at you…" he told her softly, beckoning her over.

Mr. Baelish stood in his office entrance and Sansa did as he bade, though she took care not to come too close either for fear he'd invite her in.

As she did, his eyes went up and down her body, in a way that made her skin crawl. "Wow, you really have blossomed. Your power is even stronger than when I last saw you…" he whispered.

"Careful, Mr. Baelish!" Sansa murmured, glancing nervously around herself. "What if you were overheard?"

"What of it?"

Sansa looked at him, confused. "But… but Skill is not meant to be spoken of, not in public!" At once, she felt stupid for having said as much. As if Mr. Baelish was not aware of one of the most basic rules of witch law!

And indeed, he smirked at her, amused. "It takes more than a few words to revive the fear of witchcraft in the regular folk. No one believes in magic anymore, sweetling. A witch hunt is not about to happen in these times, it would take more than that to be sure."

Sansa blushed. "Of course, I know as much. But why risk it? When we meet in… in our congregation… they always tell us to keep quiet," she said in a whisper. "Secrecy is what keeps us alive."

"Yes, you've been taught well. You sound just like Maester Luwin. He'd be proud of you. That's what he always tells us indeed. But sometimes, I wonder… Why should we, people of the blood, act as if we were beneath regular mortals when we clearly are not? We hide as if our superiority was something to be ashamed of." He paused for a moment, his gaze lost.

Sansa wondered if she should use the occasion to say her goodbyes and leave immediately, and she almost did it, however Mr. Baelish spoke before she had a chance.

"I feel like our women's power is wasted, sometimes. There is so much that could be done with it…" he went on in no more than a murmur. "Take you for example. You've only just blossomed and already have all that strength at hand. It's quite amazing in fact and I wonder if…if-"

"She's glowing indeed, isn't she? She's nearly blinding," Margaery's sweet voice interrupted them.

Both Sansa and Mr. Baelish turned at once to see the later, all smiles and standing so near, it was a miracle they had not noticed her before. As always, she was gorgeous, her hair and makeup somehow even more flawless than Sansa's. _How does she do it?_ Sansa wondered with a hint of jealousy.

"Miss Tyrell, how are you doing?" Mr. Baelish asked, straightening his back and taking a tiny step back, away from Sansa, as casually as he could. He smiled back at Margaery but his eyes were devoid of any warmth.

"I'm doing well, thank you," she answered, unphased by her principal's lukewarm welcome. "Isn't it incredible how Sansa has suddenly blossomed, just as we had all stopped expecting it? I overheard some of your conversation and have to admit I'm very impressed as well. And happy. I'm very happy for you, Sansa," she told her, grinning.

Mr. Baelish furrowed his brows ever so slightly and he tried to hide his annoyance with a forced chuckle. "I always knew Sansa had it in her. She's Cat' daughter, after all. Now, you two girls should head towards your respective classes. Second period is just about to start."

"Of course. Have a good day, Mr. Baelish," Margaery replied, linking her arm with Sansa's and leading her away.

While she was relieved her conversation with Mr. Baelish had been cut short, Sansa wasn't sure Margaery's company was such a good trade-off. She had stolen Joffrey from her after all. He might have turned out to be a total asshole, but it was still not something one was meant to do to a friend.

"Mr. Baelish is right, what has ever happened to you, Sansa?" Margaery asked when they were out of earshot.

Giggling nervously, Sansa averted her gaze and blushed deeply. "Not sure, just finally found my strength, I guess?"

"That you did. I could sense your power a good ten meters from you. That's not normal, not for someone so new to her Skill. Was there something wrong with you before? Something that prevented your well from filling up even though you had already blossomed, perhaps?"

Damned Margaery and her questions! What was Sansa to answer? "I… I really don't know. It just all of a sudden came on me." And with that, she giggled compulsively again, praying the Seven her cheeks were not as bright red as she feared they were.

For a split second, Margaery's amiable façade cracked, her lovely features hardening, but she swiftly hid her annoyance with an expression of the most convincing congeniality. "Oh, come on, Sansa! You can tell me! If you found a way to increase Skill, I really need to know!"

Such insistence was causing Sansa to regret having discarded the magic veil she wove for her father's benefit earlier this morning. It had probably been careless of her; she was attracting too much attention. There were good reasons why Dad always asked her to empty her well before she left for school, yet it felt so good to be totally free and full to the brim with power. Only now, she had to deal with the consequences of that decision.

"There's nothing more to it, I swear it! I guess I was just so behind for someone my age and so, I had to catch up!" With that, Sansa abruptly unhooked her arm from Margaery's and strode away to her classroom. "Well, time for me to go now. See you later, Margaery!"

Thankfully, the latter let her go without a word, though Sansa did not miss the took of frustration on her friend's face as she left.

The remainder of the day went on uneventfully and quickly enough, Sansa was back home. After leaving her jacket in the entryway, she hurried towards the grand staircase, longing for nothing more than her now usual pre-dinner nap. Yet as she passed by her father's office and heard him talking on the phone, her priorities changed. For some reason, she knew his conversation concerned her and so, as lightly as she could, Sansa snuck to the closed door to eavesdrop on him.

"Where is she? I never needed to talk to her more than now," she heard him speak.

A pause.

"Right. So, either we wait, or we find her where she is." A deep sigh. "Not sure I can travel all the way to the Wall at such a short notice. I'll need to think about it. Is there a phone number we can reach her at, or another way we could contact her?"

Another sigh, this one even more desperate.

"This is very inconvenient. Nan is our only hope at this point. If I have to, I'll go to the Wall myself, though I don't know when I'll be able to make it."

 _Nan_ , Sansa mused, moving away from the door as silently as she could. If anyone could undo her Evocation, it was her.

Her pulse resounding in her ears, Sansa climbed the stairs and jumped into bed as soon as she entered her room without bothering to remove her clothes. The thought of Nan getting involved troubled Sansa more than she dared admit. What if she was even more versed in the Craft than anyone was aware of and knew just the spell to break her bond with Sandor? _It's impossible_ , Sansa reminded herself. Many times over, the Hound had assured her there was no cancelling an Evocation - their bond was forever, he often repeated to her. Sansa trusted in him - how could a demon hundreds of years old be wrong on the matter? - thus after a long moment, she finally managed to relax and fall asleep.

As was becoming her routine, Sansa awoke just in time to eat dinner with her family, however, she didn't linger at the dinning table an instant longer than necessary. Less than a half hour later in fact, Sansa was already back in her room, seated at her desk with her face tilted down over one of her textbooks. Though it might be a good idea to sleep a little more before the Hound's arrival, she simply had too much homework to do to consider it this evening. She would need to catch up some time later this week. At least, the little nap she took had revived her and she was now totally focussed on her task and making good progress.

At this time of the year, sunset came earlier, and Sansa was still deeply engrossed in her homework when full darkness came. Only as the Hound's psychic scent began filling the room did she realise the time for his daily visit had arrived. Pivoting a half-circle in her computer chair, she was met by the sight of the large fiend taking form in the centre of the room. Sansa's stomach fluttered with excitement. She knew what was coming for her and couldn't wait. How long would it be before he threw her over the bed and ravished her?

For all of her initial eagerness, as she met the Hound's eyes, Sansa's blood ran cold. They were gleaming with fury - had she done something wrong?

"What the fuck is this?" he hissed, sniffing the air around him.

"What are you talking about?" Sansa asked, knitting her brows.

Searching the room with his stare, the Hound turned his back on her to glare down at her bed, his large bat-like wings opening around him threateningly.

"That smell on your bed. It fucking stinks," he growled. Sniffing again, he recoiled ever so slightly, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "Reeks like the insides of a buggering septon's arse… holy water, I think."

"Holy water?" Sansa repeated, confused.

"Did you put that there?" the Hound demanded, jerking his head to glower at her over his shoulder.

"No! No! Of course not! Why would I ever do that? It must be my parents…." Then, Sansa remembered something. "My mother… she went to the Great Sept yesterday, to take a walk she said. She must've bought it there. They sell small phials of holy water in their shop." Standing up, she took a step towards him, wringing her hands before her. "Oh, gods, Sandor, I'm so sorry! I assure you I have nothing to do with it!"

His eyes narrowing, the Hound gave her a curt nod and turned his attention to her bed. Then, in one quick movement, he seized her comforter and sheets and hurled everything out the window. Gasping, Sansa pressed her palms to her ears to protect them against the din and clenched her eyes shut even as the glass broke into a thousand pieces and flew all over the room's floor.

"Good fucking riddance," the Hound muttered through clenched teeth.

Mum's shriek echoed through the house almost immediately, followed by the sound of people running to the back door.

"Fuck them," Sandor rasped, looking out the shattered window.

The burnt corner of his mouth twitching, he lifted a large clawed hand in the air and just like that, the tumult around them was replaced by total silence.

Even with the shield Sandor had built, cold air still entered the chamber. Shivering, Sansa stepped back from the window and hugged herself. The Hound stared down at her, his eyes blazing like ambers in the night. While he was clearly angry, his irritation was not directed at her, thankfully. That much she could tell.

"If they think, they're gonna chase me away with some stupid water, like some puny little girl, your parents truly don't have a fucking clue with whom they're dealing with. Us devils hate anything holy, that's true enough, but holiness has never killed any of my kind. It just pisses us off and enhances our thirst for murder, nothing more."

Closing the gap between them, Sansa clung to his muscular arm. "Don't hurt them, I'm begging you not to. They only want to protect me."

The Hound's large frame relaxed under her touch. Gazing down at her, he lifted a hand to gently stroke her hair. "Alright. I'll do as my little mistress asks. So long as she complies to my wants tonight…" he crooned, lips stretching in a slight smirk.

Sansa smiled at him, relieved, but then she shivered again as a chilly wind blew over her. Closing her eyes, she visualised the glass shards littering the rooms floor flying to the gapping hole in the window and merging together to regain their original form. When she opened her eyes, it was as if nothing had happened: the window was whole again, the air, as warm as it ought to be.

The Hound grinned at her, his eyes flashing with pride. "You're getting good at this. Better and better. You have to true talent."

"Thank you," Sansa murmured, a deep blush spreading over her cheeks.

Receiving compliments from him always gave her such a high. In some strange way, getting his approval was like a drug, one of which she never had enough. Sansa wholeheartedly yearned to make him proud - and she knew just the way. A witch didn't need magic to please a demon, she had learned quickly enough.

* * *

When Sansa left for school on Friday morning, there were crickets singing in the vines growing over the house's facade. Their chant was so loud, it was hard to hear what Arya was telling her. The flowers Sansa created at her father's demand on Monday were now as large as dinner plates and very fragrant, the foliage surrounding them exceedingly luxuriant. Sansa couldn't help but wonder what the neighbours made of such growth so late into autumn. It sure clashed with the street's scenery where the leaves of all the other trees had already turned orange and red and started falling.

As they walked to school, Arya kept mentioning that new friend of hers, Gendry, he was called. Ever since the two of them had met some months ago, she continuously talked about him, yet whenever Sansa asked if she had a crush on him, Arya invariably got mad and told her she was being stupid and overly romantic just like this twice damned patriarchal society they lived in expected of her. As if a girl couldn't hang out with a guy without being in love with him!

Sansa didn't dare ask again, but that didn't mean she didn't wonder once more if her little sister was falling for that guy friend of hers. Arya sure seemed like she was head over heals in love with him, no matter what she pretended, and so she only smiled and nodded indulgently as Arya told her of how he rolled the best joints, was the best graffiti artist she had ever met, was hilarious and so on. It was very obvious, to the point of being funny - and a bit adorable as well.

Once more, Sansa's school day was excellent. Her morning classes were interesting and the afternoon was especially enjoyable as she had music practice with the school orchestra. This year, Sansa played the transverse flute for a change, her go to instrument being the piano. She had wished for a challenge and asked for it herself. She played very well today and received many compliments from her teacher and classmates. Her solo was flawless, they all told her. There was no stopping her and she'd have continued practicing all afternoon if the bell hadn't rung and her bandmates all fled, excited for the weekend.

Sansa walked back home by herself, passing through the large park that flanked the school building. As she did, she pondered how beautifully the week had gone. Not once had she been bothered by Joffrey and his cronies. Perhaps they had finally tired of continuously following her around, it had to get old eventually. Naively, for a moment, Sansa truly believed it might be the case and that everything would be alright from now on. She was wrong evidently. Why would Joffrey be done with her when he was having so much fun?

"Just look at her, guys. Doesn't she look like a whore with all that makeup?" his voice came from behind her. "Your hair was never so well done when you were with me. Who are you trying to seduce?"

Her eyes widening, Sansa jerked her head back to see Joffrey as well as Meryn and Boros following her closely. Jumping, she hurried her pace and looked straight ahead.

"No one! And besides, it's none of your freaking business!" she burst out.

She didn't have time to flee. Swiftly, a hand closed around her wrist, stopping her so brusquely she nearly tripped. It was Meryn, she saw as she twisted into his grasp.

"Let me go!" she exclaimed, struggling against his hold. It was useless and soon, she found herself surrounded by the three of them.

"You could be my girlfriend, Sansa. What do you say?" Meryn asked, his teeth bared in an ugly rictus.

Sansa gasped in horror. "What?! Why would I ever want to date you?"

"Because I'm the best you'll ever get. Joffrey thinks you should be grateful for the offer. You should listen to him. He knows best."

Sansa gazed at Joffrey like he had lost his mind. Had he really said as much? And why was she so surprised?

The latter sniggered, pleased by her dismay. "I don't want you to show off like you do." Approaching her, he furrowed his brow angrily. "You used to date me! What are people going to think? You need someone to keep you in line. Meryn would do the trick. Or Boros if you'd prefer, but Meryn told me he likes you."

"Really?" Sansa asked in utter disbelief.

Grinning, Meryn tightened his fingers around her wrist and nodded. "Yeah. You're hot. I would bang you."

Joffrey burst into laughter. "How nice would it be? We could go on double dates, the two of you with me and Margaery. That would be perfect."

Sansa could barely believe her ears. This was insane. "Why would I ever want to date him?!" she retorted, fighting against Meryn's grip. "I don't want to have anything to do with any of you!"

Joffrey frowned angrily and took a few quick steps towards her until his face was just a few inches from hers. "You don't have a say in this! You'll do as I tell you!"

Behind him, Boros and Meryn were chucking, same as if they were having the time of their lives, which made Sansa see red. How could they be so cheerful when she was in such a state of panic? The notion incensed her and without thinking, she sent a surge of energy through Meryn's arm. He yelped and let go of her at once.

"Why did you do that, Meryn?" Joffrey admonished him.

"I didn't mean to!" he said, rubbing his arm with an air of confusion on his face. "It… it just hurt."

"Grab her again, now! I won't tolerate her fleeing from me just now!"

With that, Boros put himself in her path even as Sansa attempted to escape. He might not be as tall as Meryn, but he was as large as a barrel and easily blocked her. She bumped into him and whimpered as he seized her upper arm with strong, fat fingers.

"I got her," he growled.

Sansa screamed and tried to pull herself free. When she realised her efforts were in vain, she kicked his kneecap as hard as she could. Boros grunted and almost lost his grip on her, however Meryn immobilised her with a hand around her other elbow.

"Calm the fuck down! You're not going to achieve anything acting crazy. There's no one around to help you," Joffrey hissed in her face. "You're coming with us now. We're gonna take you for a ride." A cruel spark passed through his eyes.

Her mouth gaping in shock, Sansa stared at him in terror. What… what did he have in mind? And where did he plan on taking her? "I'm not going anywhere with you! Leave me, or else… or else…"

"Or else what?" Joffrey asked, his upper lip curled up in disdain.

"You'll… you'll regret it," Sansa warned shakily.

By her side, Boros and Meryn guffawed, clearly unimpressed by her threat.

Frowning, Sansa lifted her chin up defiantly. She was still terrified, yet instead of tearing up as she'd normally have, she closed her hands in fists and glared at them. There was something strange happening in her, and it took her a few seconds to realise what it was.

It was rage. Yes, rage like she had never felt before, burning at her core. Sansa wondered where it came from. She had been angry before of course, still never with such passion. It felt foreign, like it wasn't hers. Like it was… like it was someone else's fury possessing her. But its provenance was the least of her worries just now, she was too consumed with ire to truly care. In her present state, all Sansa could focus on was the well-deserved lesson Joffrey should be given. He would regret ever having tormented her, oh yes he would…

From then, everything happened very fast. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Sansa called upon the entire strength in her well. As it came on her, the enormity of her might astonished her. The notion that she could use it any way she fancied was exhilarating. And still, for all of that, there, was only one logical action she could take: _avenge herself._

Thus without missing a beat, she transformed into something immaterial, as small as a drop of rain, and raced at the speed of light in Joff's direction. As she got near enough, she pushed into him and burst through the barrier of his being with unforeseen ease.

 _This… this is incredible,_ Sansa thought as she found herself floating inside of him. It was laughable how unchallenging the whole operation had been. Joffrey was well and truly a disgrace to her blood and deserved her absolute loathing. And now, she could make him do whatever she wanted…

 _Go ahead and show them you're not to be messed with. Show them what a witch of your calibre can do…_ a voice from nowhere urged her.

Even from where she was, a mist inside Joff's empty little head, Sansa could sense her lips curve in a smile. She could hardly agree more.

And with that, Joffrey attacked Meryn.

Though he was much weaker, a head shorter and skinny, with the element of surprise, Joffrey managed to hit his friend a few times on the head hard enough to stun him. Then without missing a beat, he shoved his fingers in Meryn's eye sockets, which triggered a cry of pain from Meryn.

"The fuck are you doing?" he yelled. Bending in two, he lifted both palms to his face and pressed them against his eyes.

His eyes wide in shock, Boros' expression went from bafflement to anger in a split second. He hurried in Joff's direction and would have successfully stopped him had it not been for Sansa's timely intervention.

Indeed, as if by magic, a large pool of engine oil materialised under his feet, causing him to slip and fall down on his ass. As he did, Sansa directed her physical self to back away from the action even as Joffrey spun around and kicked Boros in the face. The later groaned, his head flipping backward and bumping into the asphalt ground.

Exhilarated and breathless, Sansa followed the scene that was unfolding before her through both her eyes and Joffrey's. The experience was uncanny, as if she was a security guard surveying the same exact spot from two different cameras. The operation came at a price though, one of which Sansa grew more and more aware of as the fury fueling her instants earlier gave place to overbearing exhaustion.

Before her well was drained and she became too weak to make use of her Skill altogether, Sansa released control over Joffrey and allowed herself to regroup. The part of her that had been in him returned to her body and, at an unimaginable speed, flew through the space between him and her, a little like an untied balloon emptying itself of its air.

When every bit of her awareness returned to her physical self, Sansa backed away, staggering as she did, and found a bench to sit on. She was dizzy and nauseous, yet kept her attention on the brawl she had orchestrated, staring at it in morbid fascination.

Free of her grip on him, Joffrey fell limp to the floor. Blinking, he tilted his face up and peered groggily at his friends. Horror filled his eyes as what had transpired finally dawned on him. Rising to his knees, he lifted his open palms before himself in a most pathetic gesture.

"No! Boros, Meryn, please listen to me. I don't know what happened! I… I didn't mean to do any of this! Don't… don't hurt me!" Joffrey pleaded as they both approached him with thirst for vengeance shining as clear as day in their eyes.

But the harm was already done and nothing he said could change the situation.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Meryn shouted, spluttering all over him.

Before Joffrey could reply, Boro's grabbed his shoulder, and Meryn's closed fist, hit his jaw. He groaned and then, gasped, howled and spit as he was repetitively punched in the stomach with increasing violence. Wincing, Sansa squinted, however she was simply incapable of looking away, no matter how cringeworthy it was. In fact, she was so engrossed, she almost didn't notice a group of students passing by that stopped by her bench, not until one of them spoke.

"Is that Joffrey Baratheon?" a guy asked. "Seven Hells… why are Boros and Meryn beating him up?" he continued, visibly stunned.

After the first shock had settled in, he smiled. Some of his friends chuckled and, gradually, more clusters of students appeared, attracted by the commotion. Soon, a large crowd gathered to watch the unbelievable events taking place, everyone taken aback in a gleeful sort of way. Joffrey was dreaded at school, and not very much liked, so there wouldn't be much sympathy for him. His beating had to feel like vindication to most of those here to witness it.

And to Sansa it did feel as thus also, even though her joy was not so pure.

As Joffrey's battered body was at last tossed to the dirty ground by his ex-friends, she shuddered as guilt quickly overwhelmed her.

 _What have I done?_ she wondered, torn between horror and the most delicious of elations.

 _What have I ever done?_


	10. Chapter 10

_New chapter! This was faster than the previous two. Hopefully I can keep this up. Once more, special thanks to Athena-Noctua-Bubo for betaying this chapter!_

* * *

"Oh, gods, yes… yes! Yes!" Sansa moaned urgently. On her back, she clung to the sheet beneath her with both hands and incessantly wiggled, her climax so very close.

"You're mistaken, little bird. I'm no god. I'm much better than that," the Hound muttered against her folds.

Even as she was on the brink of coming, Sansa burst into a fit of giggles. But then she gasped and arched her back as he resumed licking her with renewed fervour.

Looking between her parted legs, Sansa was met by the sight of a huge dark horned beast gazing up at her from where he was, his head repetitively tilting up and down as he kept working on her. His animalistic eyes were gleaming in the dimness of the room and by the rhythmic movement of his large muscled body, she could tell he was jerking off.

The Hound's large bat-like wings were open over him, dark and delectably terrifying. Sansa loved it when he opened them. It sent her heart racing as she was reminded what a ferocious creature of the night he was. She wanted to touch them, and she tried, but they were too far and her fingers landed on his long pointy horns instead. The texture of them was as solid as stone and while their surface was smooth, there were some indentions in them. Sansa caressed each with her fingertips when the Hound pressed his tongue harder on her clitoris. She shivered and by reflex, closed both of her palms around them. As she did, Sandor growled in satisfaction and increased the strength of his spell on her. She whimpered, taken aback by the surge of her arousal and tightened her fists around his horns. With all of her strength, she pulled them to her, same as if she wished his face would merge with her crotch.

"Oh, yes!" she let out even as his gigantic clawed hands circled her hips and his tongue lapped at her frantically.

Sansa came right then, moaning her lover's name many times over in the most languorous manner imaginable. "Sandor! Sandor… Oh, Sandor…!"

When several long seconds later she was done riding her pleasure, the Hound did not grant her an instant of rest. Climbing on top of her, he plunged his huge member in her, his whole length filling her at once. Sansa gasped, yet even before she could utter a single word, he started pounding himself in her. With each of his powerful comings and goings, she jolted into the mattress beneath her and groaned. Hooking her legs around his waist, she eagerly followed his movement, enjoying his vigorous claiming of her.

As if they had a will of their own, her hands rose over his body to touch him everywhere in their reach: his dark lank hair, his wings, his muscular arm. By the Seven, but he was such a beast! Sansa couldn't get enough of all of his demon attributes. She was just so turned on by him…

Then, all of a sudden, he brought a large palm over her neck to circle it, his fingers not tight enough to choke, but enough to give their lovemaking a sense of danger which was really thrilling. This was too much for Sansa and she peaked again right then and there. The Hound followed her instantly and spilled himself in her, his sperms as warm as molten lava.

For a long time afterwards it seemed, they lay on their backs on the mattress, both catching their breath. Sansa was pleasantly giddy and sated to the point of being sleepy, nevertheless, as she remembered the extent to which she had moaned and wailed all through her orgasm, she guffawed, hiding her burning face behind her hands. Chuckling, Sandor rolled onto his side and drew her to him. He kissed her neck and hair and gently fondled her breasts.

"That wasn't so bad now, wasn't it?" he breathed, obviously satisfied by his performance.

"Not so bad indeed," Sansa replied happily.

The Hound pulled back from her to consider her in silence for a time.

"You did so well today, little bird," he rasped lowly. "I'm so proud of you. It was about time you made those stupid boys pay."

Losing her smile, Sansa averted her gaze. "I don't know how I feel about it though…or no, I do know. I feel horrible. I'm not sure I should have done it -"

"Stop it, Sansa," the Hound cut her. Seizing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he lifted her face so that she looked at him. "You did what you had to. They deserved it. _They asked for it_."

Sighing deeply, Sansa bit at her lip. "Yes… they did deserve it, I'll admit it. But I wished I hadn't broken witch law in the process."

"Don't start again with that stupid witch law of yours," Sandor snapped, rolling his eyes. "Why the fuck should you let anyone tell you what's good or evil? You should decide for yourself, make your own damned law." He paused and tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowed at her. "Do you think it was wrong of you to defend yourself?"

"Of course not," Sansa admitted.

"Well then, fuck witch law – it's as simple as that. Besides, you needed vengeance."

"Vengeance," she repeated uneasily. "It's not something I'm used to. It's not something I'd ever thought I'd want one day either."

"People change, little bird. They learn," he murmured, tracing the line of her jaw with a long, pointy claw. "And you, are one hells of a fast learner."

Sansa forced herself to smile, adamant about not letting her uneasiness ruin their time together.

That seemed to please him. "Say, I have an idea. We should celebrate this victory of yours, do something special. What do you think about that?"

"A celebration?" Sansa asked, surprised. "Well… why not. What do you have in mind?"

The Hound bared his teeth in a devilish grin. "What about wine? Do you have any? We should get drunk."

"Get drunk?" Sansa repeated, her eyes widening in shock. "I don't know. I'm not used to drinking. Besides, I'm too young, it's not even legal for me!"

The Hound laughed. "Legal? What's that even supposed to mean? Another bloody nonsensical man law?"

Men did have a lot of laws, Sansa had to agree. For some reason, this got her to thinking back on her time as Joffrey's girlfriend. He had often reproached her of being such a goody two shoes. Once, he stole a vodka bottle from his father and Sansa had not been able to drink more than two tiny sips. Her unwillingness to participate in his fun was one of the many reasons he had dumped her. While Sansa certainly did not regret Joff, it was probably true she should loosen up a bit. Arya often told her as much also. She might be the younger sister, but she already had more experience with alcohol than her.

"You may be right," Sansa agreed after a while.

"That, I am. You should give it a try at least. You have any?"

Sansa hesitated. "My father does, he has hundreds of wine bottles in the basement in fact, but I'm not allowed to touch them."

At hearing her words, the Hound's eyes sparkled with interest. "You think he'll miss one if he has hundreds of them? I'll be happy with just one – one or two perhaps. It's hard to create good wine, yet once you have some, you can always increase the level of a bottle's contents. Very easy to do, you'll see."

That this was not a good idea made no doubt to Sansa - she was well aware of it in fact. However, she sensed how much Sandor wanted it and besides, a part of her was tempted also. She gave in.

"Alright. I'll go to the cellar then," she agreed, a rush of excitement and nervousness flowing over her.

The Hound grinned and sat up, leaning his back against the head of the bed and crossing his ankles at the end of the mattress. "Good girl. That sounds excellent, Sansa! And remember: the older the wine, the better. Go ahead now. I'll wait for you here and we can resume fucking when you get back," he rasped, distractedly playing with his half-hard dick.

Glancing at the imposing thing, Sansa nodded. "Alright," she replied, a deep blush spreading over her cheeks. Standing up, she found her robe and wrapped it around her naked body. Then, shutting the door behind herself, she headed down the stairs barefoot.

More than anything, Sansa dreaded her father or mother catching her entering or exiting the cellar, but as she reached its door, she reassured herself. They would not: what reason would they have to venture in the basement in the middle of the night? On top of that, as Sandor had said, who would miss a bottle or two amidst hundreds? There was no reason they would find out about this at all.

For a few long minutes, Sansa searched through the cellar. It was quite cold in there and she quickly regretted not wearing her slippers. It was too dark to read the bottles' labels, so she ended up picking two by the amount of dust there was on them, surmising it most likely meant they were as old as Sandor had asked. The cellar went directly into the family room and Sansa brought them to the bar to better inspect them. There was a small lamp there which she turned on and she started reading one of the bottle's label.

"Seems nice," a raspy voice commented from just behind her.

Jumping in place, Sansa spun around to see the Hound, standing in her freaking family room as if there was nothing to it! To see him outside of her bedroom, in a reasonably well-lit environment, a place where she often spent time with her parents and siblings, sent her head swimming with anxiety. At the very least, he had put his pants back on, yet still! What in the Seven was he doing here? He really did not fit in with the décor and the contrast granted his devil attributes an even more blood-curling quality. For a moment, Sansa was just as scared of him as she had been the first time she saw him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a not so subtle whisper.

He chuckled. "Just making sure the wine you pick is to my liking."

"But you should've stayed in my room!" Sansa continued, looking around with apprehension. Nobody was there, right? "You told me you'd wait for me there!"

"Changed my mind," the Hound replied, shrugging like it was nothing.

"But, Sandor! What if someone saw you? Did you not think about that?!" Sansa exclaimed. Her heart was beating so fast, she feared it might jump out of her chest.

"No one did, stop fretting, little bird," he rasped dismissively. "Now stop complaining and show me what you've got." With that, he snatched the wine bottle from Sansa's hands and turned away from her. "Harbor Gold, not young at all from the look of it. Let's give it a try." Using one of his claws as a corkscrew, he popped out the cork and took a long, noisy swig directly from the bottle.

"Mmmm. Delicious. It's been so long since I had some wine… hundreds of years in fact. Was getting thirsty…" He took another lengthy swig and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Here, have some," the Hound told her, handing her the bottle. "This wine is to celebrate your victory, remember?"

Sansa almost refused, yet at this point, there'd really be no sense in changing her mind. Grudgingly, she accepted the bottle and sipped at it daintily. "Ugh, that wine is too strong!" she commented with a grimace. Still, she forced herself to take another little sip.

The bottle was already half empty, she realised, yet even as she gazed down upon it, a faint scent of metal began floating around them and the wine level rose until it was completely full again.

"See, little bird? This is what you call a bottomless bottle. Very handy for a thirsty bastard like me. They'll never be an end to it so long as it's mine."

"Huh, that's nice," Sansa said, forcing a smile on her lips. "Let's go back to my room now please," she added, pulling him by the hand.

"Not so fast. Let me have a look around first," Sandor hissed, the corner of his mouth twitching just once. Yanking his hand free, he plucked the wine bottle from her grip and turned his back to her. "Very cozy, this place. We didn't have great rooms like that in my time, I bloody tell you that."

Strolling about the family room, he looked around and inspected everything from the carpeted floor to the ceiling and furniture. Then, all of a sudden, he let himself fall down heavily into the large sectional couch, his wings opening above him so as not to crush them. "Comfy. Not like those buggering wood benches we had. It's even better than a fucking featherbed!"

Sansa stood as stiff as a bow, waiting impatiently. "Are you coming now?"

The Hound shook his head. "No. Relax, Sansa, and have some wine." With that, he got to his feet and threw the bottle at her. Sansa caught it easily, the subtle copper scent that reached her nose in the same breath confirming her suspicion that a dash a magic had been used. She normally couldn't catch a ball to save her life!

"What in the Seven buggering hells is that?" Sandor asked, gazing down at Mum's treadmill in the corner of the room. He strolled in its direction, clearly intrigued.

"It's to exercise. Don't touch it," Sansa told him. Striding to it, she put herself before the treadmill and spread her arms. "Arya broke it once and ever since, Mum won't let anyone touch it, _ever_!"

Arching his lone eyebrow, Sandor let the treadmill be and turned his interest to the library instead. "Nice picture," he commented after picking up the most recent family portrait taken last summer. He whistled. "Look at your mother - she's your splitting image… Well, the older version of course, but she still looks pretty damned good, I'll bloody tell you that," he said, a wicked smile spreading on his lips.

"Put it down, Sandor! We need to go back, _now_!"

With that, Sansa attempted to snatch the frame from his hands, but the Hound twisted around and lifted it away from her reach. As he did, one of his wings bumped into the collection of picture frames that decorated the library and many fell to the ground.

"So many fucking baubles!" he complained, turning around to look down angrily at what he had done.

"Oh gods! Careful!" Sansa cried, lifting her free hand to her mouth in horror.

Getting on her knees, she put the wine bottle on a shelf and picked the frames from the floor, one after the other. One had its glass broken and another's frame was crooked. The sound had not been that bad at least, or so she hoped. Her parents couldn't have overheard it of course, could they?

"I'll… I'll take care of that later," Sansa said in a trembling voice. With her eyes, she scanned the room in search of a place to hide the frames. "You should head upstairs at once! Can't you just teleport or something?" There was a drawer at the bottom of the library. Sansa opened it and dumped everything inside of it.

As relaxed as ever, the Hound grabbed the wine bottle from where Sansa had left it on a shelf and took another swig. "This is good stuff. Where did you leave the other one? I'll grab it as well. Ah, I see it." With that, he walked towards the bar.

Sansa was scanning the floor to make sure she had not forgotten any debris when a creak was heard coming from the stairs. She jerked her head at once and was absolutely shellshocked to see her father standing there in his robe and pyjamas.

"Sansa, what in the Seven Hells are you doing here in the middle of the night?" he asked sternly.

But then, his attention got caught by the large and sinister dark shape a little further, near the bar. At that same instant, the Hound spun around to peer at him.

Ned's lifted a hand to his heart, his face blanching and eyes growing bigger than Sansa had ever seen them. "Seven help me…" he breathed.

As for Sandor, his eyes flashed oddly and he titled his head to the side, a little like dogs did sometimes. He opened his wings, an action which Sansa suspected was intended to intimidate her father even further.

"You're the father, aren't you? I saw you in that picture over there," the Hound rasped, nodding at the library. He smirked and slowly walked in Dad's direction. "It's Eddard, isn't it? Ned to your friends…"

Sansa felt as if she would faint. Nevertheless, she ran to her father before Sandor had a chance to get too near and put herself between them with her back to the Hound.

"Dad…this… this is Sandor. He… he wanted wine," she blurted out without thinking.

"You have good stuff in that cellar of yours," Sandor commented, taking a swallow. "It's been centuries since I had something so nice. They don't give us wine in the Seven Hells, the bloody bastards… Good thing I left that shithole."

As he spoke, he got near Sansa enough that she could sense his bodily heat radiating behind her. He put a heavy hand on her shoulder and she tensed, very aware of her father's gaze darting to his fingers. The Hound had such long and pointy claws, pitch back at their extremities. Sansa remembered well enough how repulsed she had been the first time she saw them. She could only guess how her father must feel…

And judging by the way Dad was trembling, he was just as horror-struck as she had been. Sweat was pearling on his face and neck and his chest heaved visibly, yet apart from that, it was as if he had turned to stone.

As for Sandor, he was studying him with great interest - and a hint of mirth as well. He was clearly enjoying himself, Sansa could tell. Once more, she chided herself for not having chosen the wine bottles faster, before the Hound had a chance to leave her room and join her. This face-off should never have happened!

But then, at long last, Ned shook himself. Gulping, he shifted ever so slightly and opened his mouth to speak. "High Lord, I didn't expect to find you in my house, outside of my daughter's room…"

Snorting, the Hound lowered his head over Sansa to have a better look at her father, his hand closing firmly over her shoulder. "High Lord? You're just like your daughter, aren't you? So bloody proper and polite. She used to call me that too, you know. I told her not to. I fucking piss on titles."

Sansa knitted her brow and craned her neck to gaze up at him. "Sandor, don't be mad. My father didn't know..."

"Maybe you should've told him. That could've been an idea, don't you think? My hatred of all that bullshit's no secret to you," he rasped, caressing the side of her neck with the tip of his fingers. Sansa didn't miss her father's expression of revulsion at the sight and she tried to discreetly shrug the Hound's hand away, yet he only tightened his clutches on her. "Call me Hound, if you have to. I'll only allow your sweet little daughter to call me by my given name. We're intimate enough for that, she and I. Aren't we, little bird?"

Sansa looked down at the floor and remained silent. He didn't really expect her to reply, did he?

"Hound it is then," Dad said, same as if he had not heard Sandor's last comment.

"Good. Well, we should probably head back up now, what do you say, Sansa? We've only got a couple of hours left before daybreak. Gotta make the most of it." With that, he grabbed her ass hard enough to make her squeak.

"You're gonna move now? You're blocking the way," the Hound told Ned. He gave Sansa a little push and her father stepped aside just in time to let her pass. Then, just as he was about to follow her, Sandor halted and turned around.

"Oh wait, just a second," he said, walking to the bar. "Forgot the other wine bottle."

Holding both bottles in one huge paw, he gave Dad a pat on the shoulder as he passed by him again. "See you some other time, Ned."

Her father flinched under his touch, a reaction which pleased Sandor judging by the smirk that pulled at her lips.

 _Oh, gods, that went horribly wrong,_ Sansa mused in utter despair as she climbed up the stairs with her demon in tow. But how else could it have gone, really? None of this should ever have happened…

"You should have disappeared when my father arrived!" Sansa reproached him after closing her bedroom door. She put her hands on her hips and frowned. "Why didn't you? Did you see his face? I never saw him look so frightened! You did it on purpose, didn't you?" she exclaimed.

The Hound's smirk turned to a deep scowl in a split second and his eyes flashed angrily. "You wanted to hide me forever?" he started, his voice low and calm yet as sharp as a razor blade. "Like some stupid little pet you could keep hidden away in your chamber forever, only to be let out of its cage when it's convenient to you?"

Though Sansa kept her back as straight as an arrow and didn't look away, she shivered, unsettled by the sudden darkening of his mood. "No, of course not," she breathed.

He took a step towards her and narrowed his eyes. "Good, because that's not how it's gonna work, Sansa. Sooner or later, this had to happen. Better sooner then."

The corner of his mouth twitching, Sandor studied her in silence for an instant. Then, finally, he relaxed and gave her a faint smile. "Let's forget about this now, what do you say? Your father, he'll get over it. There's nothing he can do to chase me from your life anyhow. Give him a few days, a week at the most, and it'll be as if nothing had ever happened."

Chewing at her lip, Sansa stared back at him doubtfully.

"Come on in bed now, little bird," the Hound prompted, sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her against him. "Let's not waste any more of the time we have left tonight," he murmured. "I still have quite a tension, you know. I told you I was not done with you, didn't I?"

Though she was still annoyed with him, Sansa didn't have it in her to resist his advances - her mind was already elsewhere anyway. She could sense his tension against her stomach indeed and the feel of it was arousing her own hunger.

 _Sandor has to be right_ , Sansa mused. There was nothing her father could do. Nothing at all.

* * *

On the following day, Sansa's assurance was put to the test. The morning started off surprisingly well. She was not scolded by her parents as expected, which in hindsight should have tipped her off that something was wrong. The dreaded talk never came. Not even a reproach about the wine she had stolen was spoken.

However, in the late afternoon, an announcement was made: her parent would both be visiting Nan at the Wall next weekend. They didn't tell any of the children why they were going, but Sansa knew. She knew it was a last desperate attempt to chase the Hound from her life. There was no postponing this trip anymore. Not after Dad had came face to fact with the devil.


End file.
